Don't Fear The Reaper
by Deranged Black Kitten
Summary: I never expected the first sign of the apocalypse to be in bold print on page three with a question mark. “Reaper Terrorist Group Behind Plague?” Takes place after His Freefall.
1. Prologue

_Hey everyone! It took me a little while, but I've finally got the plot together (er... mostly) and I'm ready to start the fifth and final story in my Scrubs/Dead Like Me crossover series. Also, I was blanking on the summery for this fic, so (shrugs) that's all I have for now.  
_

_If you haven't read the four previous stories, then this one won't make much sense. For those who want to know the order of the previous fics, it goes "My Deadly Little Secret", "My So-Called Afterlife", "Shadows of the Grave", "His Freefall," and finally this one._

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

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**Prologue**

All right, listen up boys and girls. I'm going to tell you an important little story on a not so little issue that you should have been told of a _long_ time ago. Let's cover the facts first, shall we, because you're all either too stupid to comprehend this or you've all become so wrapped up in your mass hysteria drama to remember what, by now, should just be plain common sense.

I don't care what any dim-witted scientist tells you, you can't stop death and you shouldn't _want_ to either because without death, there is no life. From the moment we're born, we start to age and if you haven't figured it out by now, aging is just another form of dying. Our bodies grow and deteriorate until there's nothing left.

A² + B² equals C²

It's simple math, people! If you take death out of the equation, you stop aging, and before you go thinking that's a good thing, consider this: if we can't age, we can't move forward. Everything would be frozen in place and nobody would move past the baby stage. Of course, for all of you, that could only be an improvement.

Now that we've gotten that all straightened out, let's get started with story time. You ready for this?

Once upon a time, long before the beginning of time, in a place where even sundials were unheard of, there existed a higher power. Some of you might call him God, I myself fondly think of him as Mr. Never-Ending-Pain-In-My-Ass. God, being the asshole that he is, got bored and decided to create death. It didn't occur to him until afterwards that not everyone would like the whole idea of death, and because he had a bit of a reputation for being infallible, God decided to push the blame on someone else.

So God stuffed death into a poorly made, extremely fragile clay jar and gave it to a toad who clearly could not handle the responsibility. Why did he do this, you may ask? Well, aside from the fact that God is an asshole, death wasn't something that could be contained in a simple clay jar, but God would say otherwise if anybody asked and the fault for death would fall on Toad.

As expected, not too long after receiving the jar of death, Frog, who was just as big of an asshole as God, came along and broke Toad's jar. So death got out and since then, everything has had to die.

But our story doesn't end there, boys and girls.

Soon after death escaped the jar, God, who couldn't plan ahead if his existence depended upon it, realized that the souls of the living were horrible at following directions and couldn't find their way into the afterlife. It is for this reason that God created a couple hundred babysitters dressed in black cloaks, because God had a weird thing for robes and cloaks, and armed them with farming equipment in case the souls needed to be put in timeout.

"I'm not paying you for this," God said, because as I have mentioned before, he's an asshole. "But I will give you the power of anonymity and a magic touch that will free the souls and send them into the afterlife."

"Well, I guess that's not so bad," the babysitters agreed, being the understanding group that they are. "We get to help people and at the same time be left alone."

So the babysitters went and did their job without even taking a single well-deserved day off. However, the people they were helping didn't appreciate the work they did and came up with the nickname 'grim reapers.' That was fine though because being called a grim reaper was much cooler than being called a babysitter.

The grim reapers continued to do their job, although they ditched the black cloaks and farming equipment because that was _so_ last millennia, and they did it all with a smile for wasn't it nice to be helping people's souls move onto the afterlife and wasn't _even more_ nice to be able to do it all without being bothered by the living?

The moral of this story, boys and girls, is that grim reapers and death are two separate entities, but the _real_ moral of the story is that this is _just_ a story, and you're even more stupid than I thought if you think otherwise.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a funeral to attend.

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_That's the end of the prologue. I know, it's kinda vague, but don't sweat it, it'll make sense eventually. Credit must go to Dead Like Me for the part of the story about the toad, the frog, and the jar of death._

_Review please!_


	2. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone! Here's chapter one for you all. I don't know what the rules are for using the names of real people in fanfiction, so I'm just going to make up a name for the woman in the first scene of this chapter. Read on and enjoy!_

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

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**Chapter 1**

Jen Moyers, the White House Press Secretary, was busy sorting through a mountain of paperwork for the upcoming press briefing with the White House Press Corps, a group of journalists assigned to cover news from the White House. The whole plague crisis had become, in her opinion, a media disaster and it was her responsibility to sort through this disaster and collect the necessary information about it to give to the media. The only problem with that was that everyone wanted to know who they could blame for the plague and what the cure for the disease was and those were questions she didn't have answers for.

"I don't care how much they pay me, it's not enough for this job," she grumbled to herself.

"Ms. Moyers," a voice called out over the small intercom on her desk. "Mr. Harris is here for his meeting with you."

Pressing the talk button on the intercom, Jen said, "Send him in."

A moment later Mr. Harris strode into the office with a calm smile on his face.

"Mr. Harris, you said you had some information for the press briefing?" Jen asked with a polite smile.

"It involves the plague contamination," Cade said, shutting the office door behind himself. "I may have an idea as to who is involved."

"Really?" Jen asked, blinking in surprise.

"Yes, but before I go any further, there's just one thing I need to take care of," Cade said.

Before Jen could even ask what that one thing was, pain exploded in her chest, as if claws were tearing at her insides. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. As she sunk to her knees, the pain transformed into an icy chill that spread throughout her body. She looked up at the man she believed to be Mr. Harris and reached a hand out, begging for help, but he just stood there staring down at her. Her thoughts grew hazy and her vision faded.

Cade watched as she flopped over onto her side and began convulsing, the graveling inside of her struggling for control. Several minutes passed before she stilled. Kneeling down next to the woman, Cade saw her eyes blink open and stare up at him.

"Well?" he asked curiously.

Jen sat up a bit unsteadily and stared down at her hands with a look of awe.

"Amazing," she breathed. She paused for a moment to hum and test out her vocals before continuing. "I must admit, I was a bit skeptical about the whole thing, but... _amazing._"

"Glad you like it," Cade said, standing up and pulling Jen to her feet. "So, Miss Press Secretary, there's a press briefing today, do you remember the plan?"

The graveling controlling Jen bounced in place, testing out its new body, and did a twirl before saying with a grin, "I've got that all covered. Don't worry about a thing."

"Great," Cade said with his own grin before glancing down at his watch. He had a few other 'meetings' to attend and hopefully they would be just as successful. "I guess I'll leave you to get accustomed to your new body. I've got a few more people to take care of today."

With a nod to the woman who was suddenly much happier about her position in the White House, Cade left the Press Secretary's office. Waiting for him outside the office door were several more gravelings.

"There are a few people I want you all to meet."

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JD's POV

It started out as a fairly decent day. The construction on my house was finally done and after having the cable and phone line hooked up, I was all set to move in. I had just finished an early morning reap and because I had a night shift at the hospital along with two more reaps to take care of later on, Turk and Perry helped me move my stuff in during the afternoon. Well, Turk did, Perry just kind of stood there.

"You know, you could help," I pointed out as Turk and I passed by Perry carrying a couch.

"I'm helping," Perry said indignantly. "You asked me to help watch Danny while you moved your stuff in and that's just what I'm doing." He held the leash up for emphasis. "Nowhere in that conversation did you mention me carrying things."

Setting the couch down with a grunt, I put my hands on my hips and said, "Oh, I'm sorry; I thought the whole 'carrying boxes' thing was implied when I asked for help moving."

"You'll know better next time then, now won't you?" Perry said with a mocking smile as he sat down on the couch we just brought in, Danny jumping up onto the cushions next to him.

I rolled my eyes with a mental sigh.

"How'd you end up with so much stuff anyway, VB?" Turk asked, looking at all the boxes.

"Mostly yard sales," I said shrugging.

That's only partly true. Once I was sure that I was getting my house built, I started collecting a few things from some of the lonely bachelor reaps that didn't have anyone who would come to collect the possessions they left behind. I didn't take anything personal, just basic things like chairs and a kitchen table.

"Why do you even need this much space anyway?" Perry asked, looking around the room from his spot on the couch.

"No reason, really," I said. "Partly for Danny. He's getting to be a big dog."

"He's not _getting_ to be a big dog, he _is_ a big dog," Perry said, then looked over at Danny and said, "You're a huge beast, you know that, right?"

There actually was another reason why I had the place built bigger than I needed it. Being a reaper for as long as I've been, I've experienced my fair share of homelessness, and if I wasn't homeless, I'd most likely be staying at a previous reap's house where the living conditions were, at times, less than desirable. I figured that if Perry ever ran into a situation like this, then he could always stay at my place. Of course, I'll never tell him this because his ego would most likely get in the way and he'd never take me up on my offer. However, if he thought it was his idea to crash my place...

After getting everything moved in, Turk and I spent the remainder of the time before our night shifts unpacking boxes and Perry spent his time hooking up the TV, but only, he assured us, because it benefited him. When it came time for Turk and me to head out, Perry and Danny were engrossed in some sort of hockey tournament, so I left a spare key to the house in the kitchen so that he could lock up on his way out.

Since Turk and I now lived pretty much in opposite directions of each other, carpooling was kind of pointless, so I followed behind him on Sasha. We arrived at Sacred Heart just in time to clock in and avoid a lecture from Kelso about being late.

I checked my two post-it notes for the third time that day just to confirm what I already knew, that I had an hour to go before I needed to go up to the third floor and take care of my reaps. I headed to the Nurse's Station to get my charts and see what patients I could take care of in the meantime. However, Lavern stopped me before I could grab my charts and go.

"This arrived for you today," she said, holding out a small white cake box that, to everyone else, appeared to look quite innocent. To me though, I could practically hear the ominous music playing in the background.

Taking the box from her while ignoring her comment about how she's not my own personal postal service, I opened it up and looked at the small round cake inside. Written out in green on the white icing was the message:

_Nana Hobbs moved on.  
Sorry. Call me.  
Love Mom_

"Lavern, can I use the phone real quick?" I asked, having left my cellphone in my locker.

She frowned, looking like she wanted to say no, but handed the phone over anyway. Pressing nine to dial out of the hospital, I called up Mom's home phone and waited. It only took a few rings before she picked up.

"Hello?" she asked, probably not recognizing the hospital's number.

"Hey Mom, I got your cake," I said, getting right to the point. "You wanted to talk?"

"Oh good, I was worried you wouldn't get it. I don't have a home address for you," she said. "Yes, I wanted to talk about some things."

"I did just move in to a new place, do you want the address?" I asked.

"Later, right now I want to talk about Nana Hobbs," she said.

"Yeah, you said she..." I trailed off.

It didn't make sense to me why I couldn't just come out and say it, that she was promoted, that she's moved on to the next stage in her afterlife. I didn't even like Nana Hobbs all that much. In fact, I gave her that nickname just to annoy her. She was a bitter old woman and she was horribly racist. Of course, that was understandable considering the time she came from.

"She was promoted," Mom said, finishing my sentence. "Bernie took her replacement out to show him the ropes about an hour ago."

"Who's her replacement?" I found myself asking even though I really didn't care to know.

"His name's Holden. He's nineteen, sweet kid," she said, that maternal, motherly tone already tingeing her voice. "Deaf though, which might be a problem, but we'll work something out. You should come home sometime and meet him. Learn some sign language though."

"Mom, I'm-" I paused with a frustrated mental sigh. "I'm too busy with things here."

"Come on, Joey," she said pleadingly. "You haven't been home in so long. You haven't even _met_ Sam's replacement."

"Well, from what I've heard, I wouldn't like Brian anyway. Always slacking off and getting into trouble," I said a bit angrily. "He's..."

He's just like Mason. Hell, he's just like me when I was first starting out.

He is _not_, however, worthy of being Sam's replacement.

"Look, I'm just not interested, okay?" I said stubbornly. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

She sighed in exasperation, "Yeah. So what's this new address of yours?"

I quickly told her my address before saying my goodbyes and hanging up the phone. Lavern raised an eyebrow at me as she took the phone back.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said, grabbing my charts.

I had work to do and I couldn't be distracted by the new replacements in my division. It wasn't that I didn't like them, I'm sure I'd find that they're nice people if I actually got to know them, I just didn't like the fact that they were taking the place of someone I've known for over a hundred years now. At least with Dan I actually knew Perry beforehand. I guess I just didn't want to face the fact that because I'm the youngest reaper in the plague division, everyone I've known for so long will end up being promoted long before I reach my quota and I'll end up being stuck with a bunch of _newbies._

Sighing, I headed to the elevator to go check up on my first patient.

'_At least I'll still know Perry and people in _other_ divisions._'

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Perry's POV

The mutt and I got so distracted with the game - or at least I did. Can dogs even see the moving pictures on a TV screen? He must have liked the noise or something. - I didn't even realize what time it was until Newbie came dragging himself back in through the front door after a long night shift.

He gave me a curious look and asked, "What are you still doing here?"

The only answer I could come up with was, "You have all the good channels. Why would I _not_ be here?"

He seemed to accept that answer, as he should, and dragged himself into the kitchen, tossing a newspaper down onto the table before rummaging around for a snack.

"You never went grocery shopping," I reminded him, turning my attention back to the TV screen. "Good luck finding something to eat."

"I know, but I still have a few things left over from my previous apartment," he explained, pulling something out of the cupboard that sounded like rice.

I glanced over my shoulder briefly. Yup, a box of five minute rice. I looked back at the TV screen while absentmindedly scratching Danny behind the ears.

While the microwave ran, the kid came up behind me and, clearly misreading the 'leave me alone, I'm watching TV' vibe, he asked, "So what have you been up to this whole time? Watching TV?"

Okay, something was bothering him, it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell, and he was either trying to bring it up in this poor attempt at small talk, or he was trying to distract himself with small talk. Although I didn't mind the latter so much, talking during the game was a big no-no. Maybe during a commercial, but most likely not even in that case. It's nothing personal, I'm just following the two laws of nature which state that it is Newbie's role to be annoying and it is my role to ignore him.

So ignore him I did.

Taking the hint, he went back into the kitchen to attend to his rice which was done cooking by now. I could hear him puttering about in the kitchen, grabbing an eating utensil and opening up the newspaper, when a commercial came on.

"Never pegged you as a big newspaper fan," I said, throwing him a bone.

Pages of newsprint shuffled behind me.

"I like to cut out the obituaries of my reaps," Newbie said simply in between mouthfuls of rice. "I guess it's my thing."

Because that's not weird or creepy at all.

The game came back on and we fell into silence again. However, it wasn't a moment later before Newbie suddenly gasped and started coughing and choking on the rice he no doubt still had in his mouth at the time. When he didn't stop after about half a minute, I muted the game and looked over my shoulder at him. He held onto the table with one hand for support while the other hand was fisted up in front of his mouth as he continued to cough.

I sighed, "Really, Newbie, _rice?_ I've seen you fall off a building and break most of the bones in your body and you can't handle a little rice?"

Danny whined from his spot beside me on the couch, watching the kid intently.

"Oh, he'll be fine," I told the dog, exasperated.

Apparently reaching his limit, his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out on the kitchen floor. Danny barked in distress before bounding off the couch and racing over to the downed reaper.

"Drama queens," I muttered, standing up myself and heading into the kitchen.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting and watching as Danny slobbered all over Newbie's face in an attempt to revive him.

"It probably wasn't even the rice. It was mostly likely the anxiety that made him choke in the first place that did it," I pointed out to the dog.

A moment later, Newbie coughed again and sat up, sliding backwards until he was leaning against the cabinets below the sink. Danny's tail wagged rapidly and he stuck to the kid's side the whole time.

"Who chokes on rice?" I finally said. "It's _rice._ You don't even need to chew it."

"Which makes it all the more easier to get into your lungs," Newbie rasped in between coughs. "And your concern over my plight _astounds_ me."

"Don't be so dramatic. We all know you're fine," I said, waving him off. "Well, Danny doesn't know, but he doesn't count."

He coughed for a few more minutes, grimacing every time he coughed up a slimy grain of rice.

It was hilarious.

"So what got you so worked up anyway?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

He seemed to have forgotten that little detail in between all the choking because once I reminded him, his eyes shot open and he stumbled to his feet, dragging himself over to the table. Plopping down into one of the kitchen chairs, he pulled the newspaper over to him, quickly scanning the pages until he found the article he was looking for.

"So I didn't imagine it..." he said in a tone of quiet dread.

With a shaky hand, he pointed out the article he was looking at. Curious, I looked over his shoulder and blinked in surprise at what I saw.

**Reaper Terrorist Group Behind Plague?**

"I never expected the first sign of the apocalypse to be in bold print on page three with a question mark," Newbie said.

I rolled my eyes and pulled the newspaper over to me for a closer look.

"Have you even read this thing? It might be about something completely different," I said. "Don't you think that something as big as proof of the afterlife would be page one material?"

We both took a moment to read through the article. It wasn't that long, but it said enough.

"You see! It _is_ about us! 'A possible terrorist group calling themselves _grim reapers_ could be behind the deaths of millions of American's'," Newbie said, reading from the article.

"'Could' is the keyword there, Newbie," I said. "They don't know a damn thing. They're just making up rumors."

"That doesn't matter!" he snapped. "This isn't a supermarket tabloid; this is a reputable newspaper company. People are going to listen to what they're saying. And look: 'Government officials have yet to comment on the matter.' That's implying that all of this speculation is true and that the government is hiding something about it."

"You're freaking out over nothing," I said. "Relax and just think for a minute. People will notice if you're panicking over something like this and then they'll wonder _why_ you're panicking which, in the end, will just give them more proof that the article might hold some truth."

Taking a few deep, calming breaths, he said, "You're right. You're right."

"Of course I'm right," was my automatic response.

"I'm going to go to bed," he said, standing up. "You can stay here and sleep on the couch if you want."

I looked down at my watch. It _was_ pretty late already and I really didn't feel like driving back to the dump I was currently staying at.

"Why not?" I muttered. "Couch is comfortable enough."

Nodding goodnight to the kid, I turned my attention back to the article after he left.

Reaper terrorist group. That's a laugh.

Responsible for the plague though?

"It's nothing," I muttered to myself.

I pray to that big bastard in the sky that I don't believe in that this is nothing. Newbie will never let me hear the end of it otherwise.

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_Yay, done with chapter one. Hopefully I got their POVs right (feels rusty). Don't have too much else to say here, though I would like everyone's personal opinion on the reaper replacement characters. I myself am usually not a fan of OCs, and I would like to know whether you'd like to see more or less of these characters._

_Review please!_


	3. Chapter 2

_Hey everyone. I know. I've been horrible about getting this chapter out. No excuses, just plain laziness._

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

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**Chapter Two**

Perry's POV

I had two reaps for the day. The first had been early in the morning and the other one wasn't until 2:35PM. Usually with so much time in between, I would go off and do something rather than stick around the beast that is Sacred Heart, but the drama unfolding at the hospital was better than any soap opera and who could pass up something like that? So I stuck around, taking on the role of 'silent observer,' and let me tell you, it was quite the show to see.

It was almost funny in an ironic sort of way. A portion of the hospital staff was on edge and the rest of the hospital thought it was because they were frightened by the possibility of there being a new terrorist group when in fact they were _actually_ nervous because they _were_ that supposed 'reaper terrorist group.' Everyone, and I mean _everyone_, even the hospital's reapers, had something to say about the reaper revelation that was sweeping the media.

Really, there was no right way to react to the news since an overall public opinion had yet to be established; although it was pretty obvious as to what the general thinking would be if the media ever ended up providing proof to its claims.

Terrorists bad! We no likey terrorists! We _fight_ terrorism.

In which case, god help us all.

Based on all of the different reactions to the news, I could easily pick out who all of the reapers were in the hospital. The most common approach would have to be skepticism and a denial of there being any truth to the matter.

"I'm just not buying it," the Janitor said, surrounded by a bunch of mindless interns who were eager to get the opinion of anyone in the hospital. "I've seen a lot of weird things in my day. Squirrels on water skis, my Great Aunt Sherry spontaneously combusting after eating a packet of Taco Bell's now-banned five alarm sauce, dogs giving birth to kittens with wings - don't ask me how that works - but a real grim reaper? What are you trying to say, that I'm a janitor, therefore I must be gullible?"

"They're not actually grim reapers, just people who _think_ they're grim reapers," one of the interns said.

"Still, the media and the government has jumped the gun on things in the past," the Janitor said. "Why is this any different?"

Then there were the reapers who were a bit harder to detect because they simply agreed with whatever the other person was saying just so that their opinion didn't stand out as being different and therefore suspicious. Bunch of cowards if you ask me.

"But the government's giving no comment on the matter. They must be hiding something if they're not denying or confirming anything, right?" Turk pointed out as he walked alongside the Todd to the OR.

"Definitely, man," the Todd said. "Conspiracy five?"

There were a few reapers who gave _no_ opinion on the matter and used excuses to get out of talking about it.

"Hey, Doug?" Carla called out.

"I'm busy!" Doug shrieked, rolling away a body bag on a gurney as quickly as he could; the very _same_ body bag he'd been carting around all day just so that he wouldn't get caught without an excuse to leave.

"I was just going to tell you that you dropped your pager," she muttered irritably.

Finally, there was Newbie who, despite what I told him before, was acting more nervous and twitchy than all of the hospital reapers combined, as if the end of the world was in sight. Really, I don't know why he or the rest of them were so unnerved by this whole thing. It was all just speculation based on a leak of information from an _anonymous_ source. None of those reporters had a leg to stand on and as soon as everyone realizes this, this whole thing will just blow over.

"No, not the stake!" Newbie suddenly cried, snapping out of one of his daydreams.

I can only guess what it was about. Witches, vampires, cows or maybe a combination of the three? You never know with that kid.

Sighing in exasperation, I clapped a hand down on his shoulder and spun him around to face me. His shoulders stiffened under my hold and he didn't relax even when he saw that it was me.

Good. I'm glad I still leave at least _some_ sort of impression on him.

"Would you get a hold of yourself," I hissed. "People are starting to stare and _wonder._"

He quickly glanced around us to see that people were in fact staring. Forcing himself to relax, Newbie said, "You're right, just got a little ahead of myself. I'm good now." he paused, seeming to struggle for a subject change, then said, "Um, I have a late night shift tonight. Could you let Danny out sometime and feed him?"

The people staring lost interest at this point and moved on. Nosy bastards.

"Yeah, sure," I grunted. "But I'm not your dog-sitter, so don't make a habit of this." lowering my voice so that only he could hear me, I said, "And remember, Johnny-boy, keep it cool. We're surrounded by wolves who are just waiting for the first sign of weakness to strike and I swear to a god I don't believe in, if this gets out or if we get caught because you couldn't stay calm... well, you just better hope that doesn't happen."

"How is threatening me supposed to make me more calm?" he squeaked, pulling at his hair. "You... you just don't get it, and why would you? You weren't there!"

I could sense from the way that Newbie was muttering nonsense to himself that he was just one step away from becoming a nervous pile of goo, so being the caring guy that I am, I walked him down the hall and shoved him into the nearest supply closet so that he wouldn't make a scene.

"Do us all a favor, kid, and take five to calm yourself down," I said. Looking over at Barbie who appeared to be in the middle of her own breakdown, I added, "Why don't you make yourself useful for once and take John off my hands here. Would ya, Elliot? Thanks."

I closed the door on them both and as I walked away, I could faintly make out Barbie's tearful voice saying, "JD, your cousin's really mean."

Those two neurotic little freaks are perfect for each other.

Glancing down at my watch, I saw that it was finally time to get upstairs and take care of my last reap. It was a good thing too; there _is_ such a thing as too much drama.

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Working at Sacred Heart for as long as I did, it was common to get repeat patients. Although the name on the post-it note rang a bell, I hadn't recognized her until I pulled back the curtain.

Damn it.

Ellen M. Blanc. She was an annoying, but sweet old bat who was a patient at Sacred Heart numerous times due to one heart problem after another. If I recall correctly, after being admitted due to a heart attack, she had been released from hospital care the day I collapsed, sick with the plague. It was a bit surprising that the plague, not her bad heart, won out in the end too.

Sighing, I released her soul with a brush of my hand against her forearm and went out into the hall to wait. It didn't take too long for her to flat-line and while doctors and nurses swarmed into the room, her spirit walked right through them as if they were the ones who were ghosts and headed straight for me.

"Dr. Cox?" she asked with mild disbelief. "I thought you died."

I must admit, it was a bit surprising to be recognized for who I am by someone who wasn't a grim reaper. Granted, I had been her doctor quite often, so she _should_ remember me, but still, it was... nice.

"I did," I said. "Been dead for quite a while actually."

"Oh," she said, then after a short pause, she looked down at her hands and said, "_Oh._" Finally, she looked over her shoulder at the doctors and nurses who were still trying to revive her body. "Ohhhh..."

"Couldn't have put it any better myself," I said with a small smirk.

Looking back over at me, she frowned and said condescendingly, "Don't tell me _you're_ an angel."

"Hell no," I snorted. "From what I've been told, those guys don't like to get their hands messy."

"Well, if you're not an angel here to get me, then what... Wait," she huffed. "Damn it, I know I can be a bitch at times, but isn't Hell a bit harsh?"

"You're not going to Hell," I assured her.

I didn't really know that for a fact, but I was ninety-nine percent sure... Ninety-eight at the very least.

"Don't worry about it, alright? All you need to know is that there's a bright light in your future," I told her. "Come on, let's go for a walk."

As we strolled through the halls, she asked, "So if you're not an angel or demon, then what are you? A ghost?"

"Try grim reaper."

I've lost count as to how many times I've had to give this explanation. If this whole reaper news scandal wasn't going on, I would just wear a button all day that said 'Grim Reaper.' Just to mix things up a bit, I should just tell some of the souls I collect that I _am_ and angel or a ghost. I wouldn't want to push it with the demon thing though. Usually I'd have no problem with freaking people out, but when I have to deal with said people until their light comes, I'd rather _not_ add to the whining and waterworks.

'_Oh please don't send me to Hell! I'll be a better person! Just give me a second chance! Waaaahhhh!_'

Spare me.

"Grim reaper, huh?" she said, eyeing me. "I don't know, doesn't seem right for you. Oh, that reminds me, wasn't there something about some sort of terrorist group calling themselves that?"

Jeez, her too? She must have unconsciously picked up on what some of the hospital staff was talking about.

"You're looking at one of them," I said with a sigh. "Unless there actually _is_ a group of people out there calling themselves grim reapers, some half-wit with connections found out a little bit about the afterlife and is blabbing it to anyone who will listen."

"People have no respect these days," Mrs. Blanc said, shaking her head. "How about showing some manners for the ones who are in charge of where your soul goes? That's just common sense. People kiss up to their bosses all the time, it's pretty much the same thing, but don't you go getting it into your head that you're above me, Dr. Cox."

She shook her finger at me with a stern look on her wrinkled face.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Blanc," I said.

"Please, we're both dead now. Call me Ellen," she said. "And Perry, you take care of yourself, you hear me? People get really _stupid_ when they're scared of something."

A glowing beach with glimmering, multicolored palm trees swaying in the breeze appeared in the hallway before us.

"Oh, that must be for me. I'll see you later, Perry, and remember what I said!" she said, waving goodbye as she walked into the light without any hesitation.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," I muttered as the light disappeared in a quick blink.

You don't need to tell _me_ about stupid people-

"Doug, would you just bring that body down to the morgue already!" I snapped at Pee Pants as I passed him in the hall on my way out of the hospital. "Or _at least_ exchange it with one that isn't starting to smell bad!"

-I'm surrounded by them on a daily basis.

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_That's all for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it._

Review please!


	4. Chapter 3

_Hey everyone, I'm back with another chapter for you all. Enjoy!_

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

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**Chapter Three**

JD's POV

One of the scariest things about some of the historical tragedies that have happened is that originally everyone started out just trying to help, thinking that what they were doing was for the good of human kind.

Take lobotomies for example. Everyone believed that it was the miracle cure for mental illnesses. People believed that by nailing an ice pick in through the upper part of the eye socket and swishing it around, they were helping the patient. Even when this method was proved to be harmful rather than helpful, it still took years for people to stop using this so-called cure completely.

That's one of the things that really gets to me. Have you ever noticed that people can never just say, "Woops. We're wrong." and stop? Everyone has to argue about it for a while before coming to a decision.

Anyway, another good example would be the eugenics movement. What most people still remember about _that_ fiasco was that Hitler took it to a whole new extreme, but really it was the general thinking of the time. Back then, the "experts" took Darwin's theories of natural selection and Mendel's work with genes a bit _too_ seriously and it was quickly presented as scientific fact that human traits, such as intelligence, character and morality were biologically rooted.

_Meaning_ that if mom and dad weren't really considered smart, and dad likes to drink a lot while mom has a habit of stealing things, well then their genes _must_ be bad and any kid they have will turn out just like them. So since it's all in their genes, these kids are beyond any help!

I'm being sarcastic here, in case you couldn't tell.

So, completely disregarding the fact that the environment a child grows up in might have something to do with how they turn out, everyone became worried that these children born with "bad genes" would grow up and have _more_ kids with "bad genes" and this sort of thing would continue on, therefore being a risk of "infecting America's gene pool."

Sounds ridiculous, right, that so many people thought this? You have to consider though that it's hard to believe otherwise when all of the scientists and experts of that field were drilling it into your head that this was fact.

To deal with the "threat" of children with "bad genes," all across America, institutions usually called state schools were built to hold these children for an undetermined amount of time. I visited one of those state schools once, I never went back a second time, but I'll never forget those couple of hours I spent there.

At the time, I had been dating a reaper from external influences, Bianca, and she wanted me to come with her for her reap at the local state school.

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_"Please, JD!" she pleaded with her hands together as if in prayer. "It's creepy there and I don't want to go alone! Usually I just get them during the day by pretending to be a relative and seeing them in the visitors room, but they weren't allowing visitors today and the kid's dying tonight."_

_"Aw, Bianca, you know I don't like dealing with kids," I whined._

_"And you think I do?" she asked with a hand on her hip. "Come on, JD! You're supposed to be my boyfriend."_

_Sighing in frustration, I relented, "**Fine**, I'll come with you."_

_"Yay!" she sprung forward and hugged me._

_We waited until nightfall before sneaking in. It was fairly easy. They only had one guy on guard duty and both Bianca and I had fairly good lock picking skills. Bianca had never been past the visitors room, so we had to wander around a bit to try and find the right room. Thankfully, things were numbered._

_"What is that smell?" I hissed quietly at her._

_"Ignore it, it's always like that," she whispered._

_The place seemed pretty small on the inside for a state school that was supposed to be holding hundreds of children. We came across two small classrooms and a small cafeteria before we figured out the direction we should be going in. Finally, we found the door to the sleeping quarters of the boy's dormitory. Creaking open the door, we slipped inside, and I don't know about Bianca, but I was surprised by what we saw._

_There were what looked like hundreds of beds all crammed in the room together. They wereonly two rows of walking space and no place to walk in between the beds. There were also no blankets on the beds either, some were even missing pillows. Some of the boys had a sheet, but other than that, it was just a bare mattress._

_"How am I supposed to know which one is mine?" Bianca whispered, throwing me a nervous look._

_"Was there any information about the location?" I asked._

_"Just the name of the state school and this rooms number," she said._

_"Maybe it'll just be obvious, let's look around," I suggested and she nodded._

_So we walked up and down the two aisles, looking at each boy we came across for any obvious signs of death. Really, many of them were all so pale and sickly looking that it was hard to tell._

_Looking down at her wrist watch, Bianca hissed at me, "JD, I've only got five minutes."_

_"We should just ask someone then," I said, and shook one of the boys awake despite Bianca's quiet protests._

_"Huh? ...Hey, you're not the guy who's supposed to be on duty tonight," the boy said, giving me a curious, suspicious look. He stared at me for a moment before narrowing his eyes at me and saying, "You don't even work here. Who are you?"_

_"Um, that's not important. You're just dreaming, and I need to know where G. R. Bristol sleeps," I said, grasping at straws. All of these kids were in here for reasons such as a low IQ, so he should believe something like that, right?_

_"Bullshit," the boy said._

_Apparently not._

_Bianca raced over and threw me a quick glare before telling the boy, "Don't mind my friend here, he's a moron- Oh wait, I'm sorry! I mean, we're just here to give G. R. Bristol a note." she held up the folded piece of paper that contained her reap information. "We don't want the workers here to read it, it's private, so we snuck in. We just don't know what bed he's in."_

_The boy was quiet for a moment, as if judging how truthful Bianca looked, before he finally gave in a showed us where Bristol was. Bianca had to carefully climb over a few boys on their beds just to get to her reap. Some other boys did wake up but the boy with us hissed at them to go back to sleep and they complied with a quiet complaint about being disturbed. After releasing Bristol's soul, Bianca made a show of sliding the paper under his pillow since the other boy was still watching, but she really just slid it up her sleeve._

_We sent our informant back to bed before making our way out of the state school with Bristol's soul walking between us chattering a mile a minute. He latched on to both of our hands and kept giving us looks a child usually reserves for their parents. Bristol was positively thrilled to be walking out the front doors of the state school without any trouble at all and he passed on as soon as his eyes met the night sky._

_"So," I said, once Bristol's light disappeared. "How'd he die?"_

_"He choked on a bouncy ball," she said. After a moment of silence, she said, "I just don't get it, JD. All of those kids seemed completely normal to me, not, you know, feebleminded."_

_At the time, I didn't really understand it either._

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Feebleminded. Now that's a word that's hard for me to forget. IQ tests had been used to determine which children were, as the term had been called, "feebleminded." If they didn't score high enough, they were locked away into institutions well into their adult years and sometimes longer.

The IQ tests were, of course, flawed. Say you were really nervous when you took the test or you grew up in a situation where you barely ever got to go to school; you'd be screwed! A lot of kids who were completely normal ended up in these institutions because of this. They couldn't just prove they were smart and be released either.

Imagine for one moment that you've been sent to a mental hospital even though you're completely sane and every time you try to prove you're sane, the doctor's says, "How long have you been having these delusions and paranoia of wrongful persecution?"

See? What was once a simple mix-up is now a monster of a complicated situation.

There were children sent to these state schools that did have problems like disabilities, but the point is that these institutions were so neglectful with unsuitable living conditions that _nobody_ deserved to be sent there.

As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I was there to see specifically what all of those good intentions led to, so _excuse me_ if I'm a little freaked out by this whole 'reaper terrorist group' thing. Dr. Cox keeps telling me to calm down, that the media has no proof, that this whole thing will just blow over, but somehow I'm having trouble believing that.

It's been over a week now since the news got out about reapers and people _still_ haven't stopped talking about it. In fact, the rumors have gotten bigger, and it's not even based off things said on the news, people are just coming up with all of these crazy ideas on their own. Suddenly it's not just a terrorist group, it's a cult too, and they can brainwash anyone into joining. One of the new interns swears that they're behind more than just the plague. Some people are even claiming to have seen reapers before.

I'd have to say that the strangest thing of all is that Castello has remained oddly quiet throughout this whole thing. You'd think that he'd be the first to shout out his knowledge of reapers even though he really doesn't know much. He _does_ seem to be enjoying my frayed nerves though. He keeps throwing me all sorts of smug looks. I bet he's just waiting for the bomb to hit, whatever that bomb may be.

I sat in the staff lounge with my head in my hands, just trying to concentrate on my breathing and nothing else. It had been another long day and I was taking a much-needed five minute break so that I could gather myself together before I had to face my patients again.

"You okay, Vanilla Bear?" Turk asked, sitting down next to me on the couch. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," I said, not lifting my head from my hands. "Just gathering my nerves. I had a bit of an... odd situation just now."

"You mean that thing with the spider?" Turk asked.

"You know _already?_" I asked. "It just happened."

News spreads so fast in this hospital that it's scary.

"Yeah, well..." Turk shrugged. "I didn't know you were scared of spiders."

I wasn't _really_ scared of spiders, but I'm sure that's how it looked to everyone else. You see, not even half an hour ago, I had been going in to check on one of my patients. I had already been having a rather nerve-wracking day what with a few patients coding, the never ending reaper rumors, and the Janitor pestering me, so when my patient started screaming bloody murder as soon as I walked into the room, well of course I was surprised and panicked a little bit.

I guess I haven't been getting enough sleep lately because the woman's screaming transformed into, "Death has come! Reaper! Reaper! Someone help me!"

Survival instincts took over and I bolted out of the room only to crash into a cart full of supplies that Carla had been bringing somewhere. I fell to the ground and took most of the supplies with me. Carla gave me an annoyed look before she raced into the room to see what was wrong.

Apparently the woman had severe arachnophobia and a spider had been crawling up her blanket. Carla flicked it off the bed and the crises had ended.

"The screaming just caught me off guard," I explained, looking up at Turk.

"_Sure_ it did," Turk said with a grin.

"No, really," I said. "I am a slayer of spiders! They don't scare me! Women suddenly screaming bloody murder though..."

"Guys, guys, turn on the TV!" Elliot said as she, Carla, and several other doctors and nurses raced into the staff lounge.

Turk grabbed the remote since it was closest to him and switched on the TV. The President of the United State's face appeared on the screen.

Leaning in closer to the television screen, I narrowed my eyes at the President's face and asked, "What's wrong with his eyes?"

"What? Nothing's wrong with his eyes," Elliot said, confused.

"You don't see it?" I asked, looking at her and everyone else before turning back to the screen.

"Shh, JD! I want to hear this," Carla hissed.

How could they not see it? It was right there on the screen. I couldn't quite put my finger on _what_ was wrong with his eyes. It was like there was this shine missing and the color of the iris looked unnatural.

"-why we have remained silent on the matter up until this point," the President said as I turned my attention to what he was actually saying. "We wanted to be sure of the results we were seeing, as they seemed... unbelievable at the time. I am confirming now that there are people in this country, quite a few of them in fact, that are calling themselves Grim Reapers. There are some of them who _are_ behind the spread of the plague and will therefore be considered terrorists. There are others however, who are currently considered to be in 'neutral ground,' and I will explain what that means later."

As he spoke, I kept thinking to myself that everything was fine, that he hasn't told us anything we haven't already heard on the news, but then he kept talking...

"At the start of this investigation, we believed that these people had a new mental illness that caused them to believe they were actually grim reapers and that it was their job to take the lives of others. The more we looked into this though, the stranger things seemed to get. We have recently taken one of these so-called Reapers into custody and I have one of my top scientists here to explain what we've found."

Oh god, how did they get one of us? No, calm down, you can't believe everything you hear.

The camera switched over to a serious-looking man in a white lab coat.

Wait, his eyes looked messed up too.

The scientist smiled briefly at the camera before saying, "Thank you, Mr. President. At first, we couldn't quite explain it. These people calling themselves Grim Reapers could kill with a single touch. Sometimes the person would die immediately and sometimes they would die later on. We've seen it happen more than once and we're sure some of you out there have seen it happen too."

"Upon further examination," the scientist continued, "we've discovered that these Reapers can secrete a deadly poison through their skin. We have yet to find out what's causing this, but we are working on a solution as we speak. The next symptom shown by Reapers is that they seem to be able to quickly heal from any wound, even fatal wounds. This can be explained by a genetic mutation that causes their cells to regenerate faster than normal."

A string of curses ran through my mind and my heart felt like it was shriveling up into a dry husk at the pit of my stomach. Dear god, this wasn't happening.

"As the President said before, these people have a mental instability, most like due to whatever is causing the previous two symptoms, and they _actually_ believe they are Grim Reapers. Although there is still so much not known about mental illnesses, at the moment, we are going on the assumption that these people still have control of their actions. Back to you, Mr. President."

The screen flashed back to the President who thanked the man before saying, "I want you to understand, America, that these people are to be considered sick and some may _not_ have control of their actions. If you believe you know someone who has this sickness, we urge you to get them help by calling your local hospital or contacting-"

Although I was frozen in place over the whole thing, everyone around me moaned in exasperation and annoyance, knowing that this would lead to a whole slew of people who would come in thinking they or someone they knew was sick.

"The Reapers responsible for the spread of the plague _will_ be brought to justice. As for the rest of you out there who know you have this sickness, you are to _stop_ poisoning the people around you, effective immediately. You are on neutral ground right now and not considered a threat, but those of you who continue to harm others will be taken into custody. Thank you."

Damn it, he's making us out as a threat, as an enemy...

"Mr. President, Mr. President!" A reporter shouted. "Is this sickness contagious?"

"No, there is no way for someone to be infected by the sickness."

...but at the same time, he's making us look like a bunch of crazy, sick people who need help...

"Mr. President, is there a name for this sickness yet?"

"Nothing official yet, we've just been calling it the 'reaper sickness.'"

...I don't understand; how can they come up with all of these lies? Even if they did catch one of us, they wouldn't find any poison coming out of our hands or anything. None of this makes sense.

"Mr. President, are these people organized?"

"At this point, it is safe to assume that people with the sickness have located others that are sick like them and have gotten together into groups so that they may work together in what they believe is their 'mission.'"

I can't believe it, it's happening all over again, except this time _we're_ the target. They're going to try and lock us all away and do who knows what else!

"Mr. President, how will this effect your possibly re-election this-"

The television was turned off before the reporter could complete her question, and immediately the discussions began.

"I can't believe this and yet, well, I guess it kind of makes sense," one of the nurses said.

"I don't know," Carla said. "It sounds kind of far-fetched if you ask me. I'd like to see some proof before I believe a bunch of accusations."

"_I_ sure haven't seen anybody go do anything like what they were describing," Turk said. "Have any of you?"

Some people frowned, but everyone agreed that they haven't seen anything of the sort.

"Bambi, what do you think?" Carla asked.

"Um I don't know," I said quietly.

SONOVA--

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Perry's POV

Sitting at a bar, I stared up at the small television with a frown on my face. For once, I was completely speechless over what the President just said, and it wasn't a 'dear-lord-how-dumb-can-this-man-be' kind of speechless, it was just... speechless.

After a long moment of silence on my part, I was finally able to say, "Bartender, three scotches please."

I knew it probably wouldn't affect me, but damn it, I was going to try.

"Kid's gonna be unbearable to live with after this."

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_YAY! Done for now. (Is so excited) You can blame JD's rant in the beginning on my abnormal psychology class. If you actually want to know more though, you should check out The State Boys Rebellion by Michael D'Antonio._

_Hopefully the revelation was believable enough. At first I wanted it to be like: Reapers! They's real and all around us! (Stuff like that) But then I got to thinking if the President in real life said something like that, only the really stupid people would believe him and that whole impeachment thing would be a lot more likely. I mean, I know this is a supernatural story and all, but I want to keep things realistic._

_It's like (searches for example) if you read a Harry Potter book and in one chapter, Harry buys a pet dragon at the same place he bought his owl, and you think, "Hey, that can't happen because dragons are illegal to have for pets." rather than thinking, "Hmm, dragons aren't real."_

_Digression! Wooh!_

_Review please and tell me what you think._


	5. Chapter 4

_Hey everyone. I'm finally back with another chapter. Sorry for such the long delay, but college has been eating up most of my time and the work load is only going to get worse. Being an animation student is difficult and time consuming, but I already knew that from the beginning. I finally have a free day though, so without further delay, here's the next chapter._

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

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**Chapter Four**

JD's POV

After the news report, a meeting had been called to figure out how treatment should go for the inevitable stream of people coming in who believed they or someone they knew had reaper sickness. I already knew of one way to diagnose people. If someone came in because _they_ believed they were a reaper, then they definitely _weren't_ a reaper. Of course, I couldn't exactly tell the rest of the staff that. It was eventually decided that the first test would be a small prick to the finger or hand to see how quickly the person healed. If they tested positive for quick healing, then the next step would be to get a swab sample from their skin to check for foreign contaminants.

I wasn't really worried about that part of the hospital's testing because nothing would be found on anyone's skin, even if they were a reaper. I was a little concerned though about the healing test and where that might lead. Being a doctor, I know how the rest of my colleagues will think. They'll come up with theories as to why someone can heal quickly and yet exhibit no other symptoms to this 'sickness.' It'll only be a matter of time before someone decides that we can secrete this poison at will, so of course we wouldn't let it show for the swab test.

A nervous calm descended upon the hospital. The rumors, for the most part, had stopped now that official information on the situation had been given out, and the living hospital staff was more at ease. Sickness was something they were familiar with, something they could deal with, and although there wasn't too much that was known about this 'sickness,' in this day and age, it wouldn't be long before more information about it came out.

As for the rest of us who fit into the category of Grim Reaper, it was like we were in the eye of a storm that would make a category five hurricane feel like a breezy day. We had already witnessed the first waves of destruction in the form of the President's announcement, but now all was quiet.

Yes, the man that ran this country basically exposed us and made us out as sick, mentally ill people that required hospitalization, he ordered us to stop reaping and to leave people's souls to rot in their bodies, and he even threatened to have some of us arrested, but... no move had actually been made on the government's part. So far it was all talk and no action, not that I didn't think they would do something. I know from experience how society works in situations such as these, the shit was definitely going to hit the fan, yet the days dragged on and nothing happened.

It was extremely disconcerting, this false sense of security. Other reapers around me were tempted to relax, hoping for a moment that the worst has passed, but I could still sense it, the foreboding winds of our downfall whipping past me from the surrounding storm. Maybe I'm just being cynical, somehow I don't think that's the case though.

Despite the President's warning, we still continued with our reaps. It was our duty and we couldn't just leave the souls there to rot. We all tried to be more careful about it though. Now that people were actually keeping an eye out for us, we couldn't just stop by minutes before a person's estimated time of death. Right now the only solution was to go either an hour before or after the ETD, so that we were nowhere near the person when they actually died, and then take care of the soul accordingly. Of course, by popping the soul an hour early, there was always the risk of them wandering off before you came to collect them, so the best choice seemed to be to wait for the body to be taken to the morgue where Doug would take care of it until you came to get the soul.

Perry had it a bit more difficult since some of the reaps he had to deal with happened outside of the hospital. If I remember his ranting complaints correctly, after having to break into the home of some of his reaps, he's had to head out early in the morning and pop their soul ahead of time and then come back later during their ETDs and call the soul out of their house afterwards. However, this method varied depending upon circumstances such as nosey neighbors or other people being present in the house.

On top of all of that, I had my duties as a doctor to deal with too. We had quite a few people come in who thought they caught the reaper sickness despite the assurance by the President that it was not contagious. They came in wearing long sleeves and gloves, as if afraid that they would spread their so-called disease and kill someone. There were others who managed to drag in someone who they believed were reapers. Each person had been quickly tested and sent away, and only one of them had actually been a reaper.

I could tell from the moment I spotted her sitting in the waiting room, her arm held tightly in the gloved grasp of an elderly woman who was probably a concerned friend. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties and her look of terror was different from the other frightened looks people wore when they came in. Ignoring everyone who came in before her, I called her back into an examination room after explaining to her friend that hospital policy stated that she had to wait outside.

She sat on the examination table and the fear in her eyes grew as I closed the door behind me. Explaining the first test for what felt like the millionth time that day, I pricked her finger and watched as the tiny puncture wound sealed over immediately. Her eyes went wide and darted up to me.

Smiling at her, I said, "Sorry, just had to be sure. You can never be too careful these days."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Don't worry, I'm in the same boat as you," I explained quietly while retrieving a Band-Aid. "Plague division. You?"

Relaxing on the examination table, she sighed in relief and said, "External influences."

Putting the Band-Aid over her healed finger, I said, "You're going to have to be a lot more careful now. Times are tough and they're only going to get tougher. I'll print you off some papers saying that you are healthy and reaper-sickness-free and then I hope I won't see you back here again."

"Thank you so much," she said gratefully.

Nodding at her, I said, "Why don't you go back out into the waiting room and I'll have those papers to you in a minute."

Smiling at me, she hopped down off the table and headed toward the waiting room while I went to the nurse's station to get those papers for her. The rest of the day passed normally with me taking care of my patients and at times helping out with the crowd in the waiting room. I spent my breaks mostly down at the morgue taking care of my reaps, and also trying to contact Barbara.

As soon as I got some time by myself after that news report had ended, I had tried to call Barbara and get _some_ idea as to how we were going to handle this situation, but she just wasn't picking up. I didn't even get a call from her anymore in the morning about my and Perry's reaps, just a text message from either her or someone else in my division. When I texted her back with my questions, the only response I got was '_Not now, kid._'

After reaching Barbara's voicemail once again, I snapped my phone shut with a mental curse.

'_Of all the times for everyone I know not to answer their phones..._' I silently fumed as I stalked the hospital hallways. '_Are they in trouble? Should I be concerned?_'

"Hey, Bambi!" Carla called over to me, tearing me from my thoughts. "Someone called a meeting in the employees' lounge, come on!"

Frowning curiously, I followed her through the halls to the lounge.

"What's the meeting about?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Someone just sent out a mass page for all of us to head over there."

"A page? I didn't receive any page," I commented.

Odd.

When we finally turned the corner to the employees' lounge, who did I see standing outside the door but Jack Castello? I paused mid-step and for a second, fear bubbled up in my stomach because this meeting couldn't be anything good if _he_ was behind it, and _of course_ he was behind it. He's been after my blood ever since I tore his soul out of his body, and the look on his face wouldn't be so smug if this meeting wasn't his idea.

Walking over to him with a glare on my face, I waited until Carla disappeared into the crowd in the lounge before hissing quietly, "What are you up to Castello?"

He frowned at me as if I were the lowest life form on this planet and said, "You and I both know this isn't some simple sickness. There's more to it than that, am I right? You wouldn't have been able to do whatever it was you did to me if you were just sick."

"What's your point?" I growled.

"Just because the President's lying about all of this, doesn't mean I can't use it to my advantage," he said, his grin returning.

"You better think twice about doing whatever it is you plan on doing in there, Castello, because you never know, I might just be one of the ones who can't be held responsible for his actions," I said.

Despite my threat, his grin didn't fade and there was no look of fear that I had been relying on all this time to keep him in check. He had something on me and I didn't even know what it was. For a moment, I thought I could bargain with him, stop him from doing whatever it was he planned on doing and let him hold power over me this time, if only to keep my secret safe. Before I could get a word out though, he turned on his heal and entered the crowded room. I meekly followed behind him.

'_Deny, deny, deny. Whatever he says, just deny it_,' my mind chanted as my gaze traveled around the room. Not everyone who worked in the hospital was present, but a good majority was, including all of my friends and Lavern, the biggest gossip in Sacred Heart.

"My co-workers," Castello called out loudly from the front of the room, wasting no time in gaining everyone's attention. "Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules. I'll try and make this quick, we run a busy hospital and I don't want to keep you from your work for too long, but there is an important matter we must attend to. There is one among us who has the reaper sickness."

There was a quiet murmuring of voices around me as they took in what Castello was saying and the reapers of the staff seemed to freeze in their places, fearing that they were the ones about to be exposed.

I just couldn't believe that this was happening. My greatest nightmare was coming to life around me and yet... what proof did he actually have?

"I had suspected something for the longest time, but I didn't quite know what it was until the President's announcement. Doctor John Dorian has the reaper sickness, and I have proof!" Castello announced loudly as he held up what looked like a blank DVD.

I just had to ask...

Everyone's attention was so focused on him that they hadn't yet realized that I was in the room, standing among them, but now it was only a matter of minutes. How had he managed to get any physical proof on me? I thought I had been so careful. Maybe I should just leave now and never look back...

No, I couldn't. All of my reaps are here and by running, I would only be proving his accusations right.

Does any of that really even matter anymore? I'd be safer if I ran than if I stayed. I could get a new identity again and I could start out new in a different state. Yet... could I really just leave all of my friends behind like that?

My gaze drifted between Turk, Carla and Elliot, watching the emotions play out on their faces as they watched Castello put the disk into the TV's DVD player at the front of the room. There was disbelief, shock and concern in their eyes, concern for me and some fake sickness they believed I might have.

No, I couldn't just leave, I still had more time with them. I had known them for so long and I was closer to them than I was with any of the original reapers in my division. Damn it, I didn't _want_ to leave yet! I was still supposed to have several more years left with them before I even had to _consider_ how my death would play out in their lives.

The TV screen came to life and I saw myself standing in the men's locker room, turning the combination on my locker. As soon the locker door opened, there was a small flash and a muted bang as a gun went off and blew a hole through the side of my head.

'_Huh, so it really _wasn't_ the Janitor that set that up._'

Gasps echoed throughout the lounge as my coworkers watched with morbid fascination. Fear replaced the look of concern in my friends eyes, but was it fear for my well-being or fear of what I was?

On the TV screen, the wound on my head magically healed and I stood up as if nothing had even happened. I could practically feel the winds of destruction from the surrounding storm increase in their intensity.

When the disk stopped playing, a shocked silence settled upon the room. Carla's eyes darted over to me as if she had forgotten that she had seen me perfectly fine minutes before and expected to see a bloody hole through my head. Everyone else's eyes followed her gaze and suddenly all eyes were on me. I met their stares with a grim, but stubborn frown. They all took a step back from me, some even darted out of the room, and I steeled myself for the inevitable explosion.

Several mouths opened to speak and I almost closed my eyes. Here we go; the yelling, the screaming, the accusations, all accompanied by pitchforks and burning stakes and straight jackets. This wasn't something I could just deny. An explanation would at least be needed, and how could I explain what happened on that disk? I might have actually commended Jack on his ingenious trick if I wasn't about ready to tear his head off.

Not so surprisingly, the first to speak was Carla, with her voice loud and clear, taking the stage before anyone else could.

"So let me get this straight," she said with poorly concealed fury, and to my shock, she wasn't talking to me. "You _suspected_ that Bambi had this sickness, and instead of coming to us, doctors and nurses who would know how to handle the situation, you decided to test your _theory_ by _shooting him in the head?_"

My god, she's _defending_ me. Carla, if you weren't my best friend's wife, I would marry you right now.

"I didn't 'suspect,' I _knew_ that he had it. I knew that the gunshot wouldn't hurt him," Castello said.

"Oh _really,_ Mr. Medical Expert?" Elliot said condescendingly with her hands on her hips as she joined in with Carla's rage. "And what sort of medical degree do you have?"

He frowned at them and said, "Look, I just knew-"

"You didn't _know_!" Carla snapped. "We barely _know._ This whole thing is completely new to us, to everyone in the medical field. How could you have risked his life like that, not knowing if a head shot could completely override any genetic healing Bambi may have?"

"Vanilla Bear," Turk said, and my stunned gaze snapped over to him to see him standing beside me, and yet still keeping a distance. I felt a stab of pain at that. They may support me, but they're still afraid of what they think I can do.

"Why didn't you come to me about this," Turk asked, looking hurt himself. "We may not know too much about this, but we can still help you with it."

"Turk, I'm... I'm not sick," I finally managed to say.

"I know you think that, buddy," he said, his tone sad but reassuring, and at the same time patronizing. "You saw the news report. It's just one of the symptoms, right? But I just need you to trust me on this that you need help, and we can help you."

"Turk, no," I said, my voice laced with frustration. "I'm _not_ sick. I don't kill people. I don't feel that I _need_ to kill people."

I'm helping them, but none of you could ever really understand that, not until you see the light for yourselves.

"And I don't even remember that happening," I snapped as I gestured at the TV.

Good. Pleading ignorance is good.

"He's lying, he does remember that and he _does_ kill people!" Castello shouted across the room. "I've seen it! I've seen him poison patients. I've seen him touch their arm and then they die minutes later!"

"Shut up! I do not!" I snapped at him, my hands fisted at my sides. "Nobody does! It's just not possible. People can't sweat poison."

"He's killed dozens of patients," Castello said. "And I would have said something before, but he threatened to kill me too."

I could see it on all of their faces, even the faces of my friends. Uncertainty, suspicion... fear. He was turning them all against me; painting the picture of an unstable, cold-blooded killer, and... and they were starting to believe him. How could they believe even for a second that I'd do something like that? I wasn't killing anyone. Those people would die whether I was there or not. I was just helping them escape an eternal hell in their dead bodies.

Castello kept prattling on about how much of a monster I was. I wanted to tear his soul out of his body again and leave it out to rot. I wanted him to suffer, and I would even settle for just strangling him, so I lunged at him. I couldn't help it, my mind wasn't thinking rationally. Before I could reach him though, several hands grabbed hold of me and held me back, and I couldn't help but notice how careful they were at not actually touching my skin.

"You see?" the lawyer crowed. "He was going to poison me right now!"

"No, you're lying!" I shrieked. "He's lying. I'm not sick. You guys have to believe me!"

"JD..." Carla said quietly with pity in her eyes, a pity that Turk and Elliot also wore.

"No! I... don't give me that look, guys. I'm not sick. I'm not a hopeless cause. I was just going to punch the bastard, and I'll do it with gloves on if that'll make everyone feel better," I spat with a challenging glare.

"He probably knows who the rest of the reapers in this hospital are too," Castello said, speaking up again. "You heard the news, they gather together in packs!"

"I'm not an animal, jackass!" I snarled at him in an ironically animalistic way. "And there's no such thing as grim- _ow!_"

The sudden sensation of pain in my right hand seemed to lift the red haze from my eyes and calm the rage controlling my mind. Bringing my hand forward, I blinked in surprise at the sight of a rather large bloody cut in the palm of my hand. Someone _actually_ cut me... for curiosity's sake.

Turk stepped around in front of me and took in the sight of my bloody hand before turning a furious glare on all of the people around me. "Who did that?" he growled.

Nobody said a thing.

"Let him go!" Turk snapped and all of the restraining hands released me.

I sunk to my knees, more because I was overwhelmed than anything else, and stared at the cut on my hand. It was pretty deep. Kind of malicious for a hospital staff member, and... Oh god, they were going to see it. They were all going to see me heal. If the tape wasn't proof enough for them, then this would settle the matter for any skeptical minds.

I cupped my left hand over the wound on my right. Maybe they would let me leave so that I could go and deal with this on my own. This whole thing had gotten a bit out of hand...

"JD."

I looked up from my hands to see Turk, Carla and Elliot kneeling before me.

"Bambi, let me see your hand, honey," Carla said gently.

I stared at them for a moment, not moving or saying a word, and I wondered just how much I really trusted them. Did I trust them enough to let them see this? Did I trust them enough to see me heal and then _not_ see me as a monster afterward? Did I trust them to not be afraid?

Slowly, I lifted my left hand up and held my injured right out for them to see. They leaned in closer and Carla gingerly took my hand in hers, touching my skin without fear. I was aware of over a dozen pairs of eyes staring at me from behind, and yet I couldn't bring myself to care. Before the eyes of my friends, the skin on my hand knitted back together, leaving nothing but the stain of blood behind.

Silence again, until...

"My god," someone breathed behind me. "Did you see that?"

"His hand, it really healed," another person said. "There's not even a scar left."

"You see? _You see?_" Castello's voice tore through the quiet murmurings. "He has the sickness! He's one of those monsters and he's been killing patients all this time."

None of that seemed to matter though when Kelso's voice boomed from the lounge doorway, "Would someone explain to me why more than half of this hospital's staff is neglecting their work!"

"Um, sir.."

"Shut up, it was a rhetorical question," Kelso growled. "I have eyes and ears all over this place, I don't need any excuses. Dorian, Castello, my office now! As for the rest of you, get back to work!"

Everyone scrambled to get out of the room as fast as they could until it was only me, Turk, Carla, Elliot and Kelso. Kelso glared at the four of us before leaving the lounge himself. I looked over at my three friends. We frowned, none of us really knowing what to say. I finally just turned and left without a word, heading towards Kelso's office.

.

* * *

.

"Doctor Dorian, I only know what I've been told, so I can't say that I know the whole story, but that little stunt you pulled with your hand back there was proof enough," Kelso said. "You are one of the few competent doctors left in this hospital, so I'm not going to fire you. However, until this whole thing cools down and you get yourself some help, I'm going to have to suspend you. I'll give you suspended sick leave if you seek out help for your illness, otherwise, it'll be without pay. Do you understand?"

But I'm not sick.

"Yes," I said quietly, my eyes on the floor. I could practically feel Castello's smug look radiating beside me.

"As for you, Mr. Castello," Kelso said, turning to the lawyer. "Given your past, I'd say I've been pretty lenient with you. I gave you a job when nobody else would, and you repay me by bringing a gun into this hospital and shooting one of my staff? _You're fired._"

I held back a smile.

"Both of you get out of my office now."

You can't say that Kelso is without his good moments, still though...

I've been suspended.. for who knows how long, and without pay too because there is no way in hell I'm going to let a doctor try and treat me for something that doesn't even exist. That storm just keeps getting closer.

.

* * *

.

I sat on my bedroom floor with my back against my bedroom door and my cellphone in hand. Ignoring Danny who was whining at me from the other side of the door, I pressed the redial button for Barbara's number.

"Come on, Mom," I murmured with the phone against my ear.

Still just her voicemail. Damn it, why wouldn't she pick up? If there was ever a time I needed her, it was now.

Setting the phone down next to me with a sigh, I brought my knees up to my chest and crossed my arms over them. A few minutes passed before the phone began to ring. A quick glance down at it showed me that it was just Elliot calling again. I ignored it. All three of them kept calling me, but I just didn't feel like talking to them. They didn't know the situation for what it really was, and even if I did tell them, they wouldn't believe me anyway. They'd just think it was part of my 'sickness.'

A little ways down the hall, I could hear the front door open and close. I knew it was Perry before he even said, "Get off me mutt. Where's the kid?" Only Perry would let himself into my house as if he owned the place.

There was a knock on the bedroom door as Perry called out, "Newbie, you okay in there?"

"Go away," I responded dully.

Ignoring me, Perry said casually, "So I was at the bar today, cheating a few brats out of their money in a drinking game, when I got a call from Carla saying that you had contracted this 'reaper sickness' and that I should keep an eye on you during your suspension and make sure that your sickness wouldn't cause you to do something you normally wouldn't do." There was a long pause and he seemed to be waiting for me to say something. When I stayed silent, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"That's a first," he muttered. "Well, all right. I'm going to raid your fridge now and watch some TV..."

...if I need him. I smiled a little bit. He'd never actually say it out loud, but if I needed to talk, he'd be there to listen.

I waited until I heard his fading footsteps before I quietly said, "Thanks."

I sat in my room, listening to the sound of the TV and the microwave. I could hear him flipping back and forth between sports and the news when something caught my attention.

"_-new law has come into effect requiring all reapers to register themselves with their state. Any reapers refusing to register will-_"

Perry flipped back to sports, probably hoping I hadn't heard that.

Standing up, I walked over to my bed and flopped face down on it. Registration... They want to register us, no, tag us like cattle. They'll know who we are and where we live, and who knows what they'll do if we refuse...

And just like that, the storm was upon us.

.

* * *

_End of chapter! Yay! Hopefully that lived up to everyone expectations about JD's exposure. I'm going to celebrate with goldfish now, the tasty snack that smiles back until you bite their heads off! (morbid, right?) _

_Review please!_


	6. Chapter 5

_Hey everyone! Man, I have been __**so**__ bad about updating lately, but fortunately for you and unfortunately for me, I just recently was stuck at an airport for 8 hours waiting for my plane, added to that was a three hour flight, and so I took that time to write out the next chapter for you all. Enjoy!_

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

JD's POV

As the days dragged by, news on the reaper issue continued to get more and more depressing. As expected, no real reaper out there was stupid enough to register themselves, so the government and authorities decided to take the next step in controlling this 'disease.'

Like a train wreak, I couldn't help but watch as names scrolled by on the TV screen; some of them I actually recognized. A '_Reaper Wanted List_' is what they were calling it. Because no one was registering, the government, or whoever the hell came up with this idea, decided to forgo secrecy and let everyone out there know exactly who the reapers are.

Names were added daily, sometimes with a picture of the reaper to go with it, and everyday the news reporters recommended that if your name came up on the list, you should either go register or check in at a hospital or doctor's office to prove that you are reaper-sickness-free. Once you got your clean bill of health, they instructed you to notify the police who would then contact the news stations so that your name would be taken off the list. It was a long and drawn out process, but the ingenious and at the same time unfortunate thing about it is that it keeps the living off the list while keeping the reapers on.

I haven't seen my name on the list yet. I suppose the hospital is giving me time to register or seek help, out of respect for my work there in the past, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I end up on the list too.

"-and once again, reapers who do not register themselves will be seen as hostile. Authorities report that if a reaper's name remains on the list for an extended period of time, they will be taken into custody."

So far nobody has actually been arrested, but who knows how long _that'll_ last?

I couldn't help but feel bitter and resentful over the whole thing, more-so than even Perry's usual pessimism. He hasn't been at this job for too long and he already expected the worst out of people, so this whole thing couldn't have been too big of a surprise for him, unlike me who has been doing this reaper thing for over a century now and has _seen_ the worst out of people and yet is shocked that something like this is happening all over again.

Logically, I know that the living aren't aware of us, or rather, _shouldn't_ be aware of us, and that I shouldn't be expecting any gratitude from them in either scenario, maybe a little from the dead once they've seen their light, but definitely not from the living.

And yet... I've dedicated my whole afterlife to this, and although it seems like I don't have much choice in the matter, free will still exists. If I _really_ didn't want to reap, I could very easily just stop. Who knows, maybe the place where reapers go when they don't do their job is just the actual afterlife.

That's got to count for something, right?

People need to get over their death issues. At least when _they_ die, they get to go into that bright, pretty light, unlike the rest of us who are trapped here to be hunted by the ones the deceased left behind. It's not like I'm expecting a parade or a medal or anything, all I'm saying is that a thanks would be nice. A thanks from someone, _anyone_, who is not a reaper. If they're a reaper, it doesn't count. _"Thanks for doing exactly what I do every single day."_

You see? It's pointless, and it just doesn't give you the same warm fuzzies as a thank you from someone who you actually did something for.

A little security from whoever's in control Up There would also be kind of nice. I don't think it'd be asking too much for the Higher Ups to cover our asses every now and then and prevent something like this from happening. If I had known that I was completely on my own in that aspect, without insurance I guess you could say, I would have been a hell of a lot more careful.

My cell phone buzzed and rang on the coffee table in front of me and I muted the TV before I answered it.

"Hey," I greeted cheerfully, already knowing from my caller ID that it was Doug from the hospital.

"Hi, JD," Doug said quietly, most likely calling me from inside a supply closet somewhere so that nobody could overhear him. "All of your reaps are ready for you in the morgue. I left the back door unlocked so that you can get in."

"Thanks, Doug," I said gratefully. "I'll be over in a little bit."

"Uh-huh," Doug said, sounding nervous as usual and probably sweating buckets. "I'll talk to you tomorrow then."

He hung up quickly before I could say goodbye, though I could hardly fault him for being on edge. Because of his convenient role in the morgue, he'd become the go-to-guy for any reaper that may have difficulties accessing a reap in the hospital. As far as I know, that's me and Perry. There might be others, and if there isn't, with the way things are going, there will be more soon. That puts Doug in a tough position. If someone catches him talking to known reapers, he could get in trouble or even be suspected himself.

Basically, we call him up with our reaps in the morning and he makes sure the bodies are set aside when they come in so that we can release the soul and go before anyone notices we're there.

Today, I only have some morning reaps to take care of at the hospital. Perry has some that he has to go in and take care of at night, something that he wasn't too happy about. (_"No, you can't leave them in there overnight and grab them in the morning!_ Why? _Because it's cruel Perry, and I don't care if they deserve it or not!_")

"I'll be back later, Danny!" I called over my shoulder to a dozing German Sheppard before grabbing my things to go.

Time to go be a ninja-reaper.

* * *

People usually want an explanation of some sort when shocking information about someone they know comes to light, but seeing as how I had no explanation to offer, I felt it was in everyone's best interest (well, mostly mine) to avoid any possible confrontation with anyone living who may want to ask me about the reaper thing. Once I come up with a story to tell everyone, preferably one that doesn't make me look homicidal, sick, or mentally unstable, then I'll be ready to face them. As of yet, however, such an explanation has eluded me. It's because of this that I had to slip in through a back door of the hospital and sneak down a few dimly lit hallways to reach the morgue.

Peaking in through the small window in the morgue's door, I saw that the place was empty of anything with a heartbeat. Doug must have made sure that everyone cleared out so that I could come in and do my job undisturbed. I'll have to do something nice for him sometime in thanks.

Entering the morgue, I wandered around the room, looking at the nametags on the steel doors to the drawers that held the bodies, until I came across the names of my two reaps. I pulled open the drawers and lifted the sheets back from their heads to reveal Gretchen A. Duckett, a middle-aged woman with short blonde hair, and Peter M. Reyes, a young man, possibly mid-twenties with even shorter brown hair.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered to myself.

People were never generally too happy to see me as their grim reaper to begin with, unless they were one of those positive thinkers. Now, though, with all of the recent media hype on the reaper issue, the souls were becoming even worse to deal with. Some of them would just shrug, as if to say, 'I didn't know, so you can hardly blame me for any of this.' Others would act embarrassed and sheepish with a big giant look of 'Whoops' on their face. Those people weren't really the ones who bothered me, it was the ones that were frightened of me that I didn't like. Even when they tried not to show it, I could see the fear in their eyes, as if they truly believed that I was the one who put the final nail into their coffin.

I released Gretchen's and Peter's soul quickly and stepped back to wait. Gretchen's soul was the first to rise out of her body. She screamed where she sat, her legs not yet free from her corpse and the upper half of her body seeming to grow out of the sheet that once covered her. While she screamed and attempted to try and grasp her current situation, I made sure my eyes didn't drift lower than her nose due to the fact that she was currently naked. Finally the screaming stopped and she blinked a few times as she came back to herself.

"I'm out?" she questioned in disbelief, then shrieked tearfully. "Oh, thank god!"

It was then that Peter's soul rose out of his body, though not quite as dramatically as Gretchen.

"W-what?" he stuttered, looking disoriented. "What the hell was that? I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't _breath._"

Noticing the naked ghost-of-a-woman whose upper half was visible for all to see, Peter paused, seeming to forget his question. Gretchen blushed and quickly covered her chest with her arms. Finally noticing that he too was naked, Peter averted his eyes from her to me.

"Nakedness is a possible side-effect if I don't get you out in time; namely, if someone undresses you before I can get to you," I explained.

Understandably, they still looked confused.

"Out in time for what?" Peter asked.

"'Get to us'?" Gretchen raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry to say, but both of you have passed on several hours beforehand, and I'm your grim reaper," I said.

"We... we've died? Wait, you killed us?" Gretchen accused with an angry glare. "You bastard!"

"No, stupid," I snapped, suddenly not feeling very respectful for the dead. "In case you didn't notice, you were stuck in your body before I got here. You would have died whether I was involved or not. It's not my job to kill you, it's my job to get your souls out of your dearly departed bodies and into the afterlife; and before you ask me what took me so long," I said, already sensing the question on the tip of their tongue. "I think you should consider how hard it is for one to do their job when the entire country is out for their blood. There is _no_ sickness, we really _are_ grim reapers."

Man, does it ever feel good to finally say that!

"Oh," she said after a moment's pause.

'Oh.' That's it. No 'sorry,' no apology of any sort. Just 'Oh.' And, wait for it, yes, there it is, that sheepish, embarrassed look like I caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Well, I'd rather have that than them being afraid of me.

Slapping on a cheerful mask of reassurance, I smiled and said, "Moving on to other matters, I'd like to say: Hello, my name is JD. You can call me JD, and I will be your guide on this trip to the afterlife. I'll show you to your light and from there, it will take you to your final destination. Now, if you'll both ignore your nudity for a moment and step this way, we can go."

Thankfully, they were compliant from that point on.

* * *

When I got home later that day, a lack of things to do led to me taking a nap. Before, I had felt like the hospital was consuming my life, but now that I couldn't go to work, I realized that it _is_ most of my life. Added to the fact that I'm currently avoiding my friends, I really don't have too much to do with all this extra time. I don't know how Perry can stand it, and I don't even think he's really looking for a job at the moment.

It was fairly late into the night when I was awoken by the sound of Danny's ferocious barking. I ignored it for a little while, thinking that maybe it was a squirrel and that he would eventually shut up, but like the Energizer Bunny, he kept going and going until I couldn't stand it any longer and had to see just what was getting him so worked up. As I sleepily dragged my feet toward the kitchen in the direction of the barking, I realized that there was a second sound to go along with Danny's barking; a hushed voice whispering for Danny to be quiet.

Narrowing my eyes, I backed up against the wall of the hallway and slowly made my way towards the barking. Grabbing a hairbrush along the way, it being the only thing available to grab, I prepared myself for the worst, ready to fight for my territory if need be.

Springing into the kitchen, I flipped the light switch on while raising the hairbrush high above my head, the whole time thinking that I should buy a bat for these sort of situations- and stopped.

"Turk?" I said, baffled.

Turk stood before an open window in my kitchen with a sheepish smile and his hands raised in defense, though he didn't look like he felt threatened at all. Now that I was in the room, Danny stopped barking, apparently satisfied with a job well-done for warning me of an intruder in the house.

"Hey, VB," Turk finally said and I set the hairbrush down onto the kitchen counter with a frown before going over to riffle through a few drawers.

Pulling out a dog biscuit, I knelt down next to Danny and fed him the treat. Ruffling the fur on his head, I cooed, "Good boy. Danny's such a good boy!"

"Good boy? That dog was snarling at me!" Turk said, sounding offended.

"I have to reward him for alerting me of intruders. I don't want to give him mixed signals," I said reasonably, looking up at my best friend who I really didn't feel like talking to at the moment. "You did come in through the window, didn't you?"

"Only because you locked the front door," he countered.

"Hmm, I'm going to have to hide a key out there somewhere where you can find it," I said.

"Don't put it under a mat, everyone puts it there," Turk said.

"Everyone puts it under a fake rock or flower pot too. I need to come up with something that hasn't been done before," I mumbled to myself before remembering that there was a situation I had to deal with here; specifically, Turk breaking in to see me when I had gone to so much trouble trying to avoid him and everyone else. Hiding places for a key to the house could wait for a better time.

Although I could just have a spare key made for him...

Focus, JD, focus!

"Turk, what are you doing here?" I sighed, already knowing the answer.

"What do you think, man? There are things we need to talk about, grim reaper things, and you've been avoiding us all for over a week now!" he said.

Had it really only been a week since my suspension? It felt like so much longer.

"Maybe I don't want to talk about grim reaper things," I said with a stubborn glare.

"Well that's too bad then because you can't avoid this forever. There is something going on here and as your best friend, I think I deserve an explanation," he said.

Inevitably, we've come back to that again; the explanation everyone wants that I can't give them. What could I possibly tell Turk and everyone else that won't make me seem like a cold-blooded monster? I needed more time to think. I couldn't come up with something believable on a whim like this.

"I don't know what to tell you, Turk," I said helplessly.

"How about the truth?"

The truth, huh? Coming clean and telling the truth has worked for many people in the past, but in my case, when the truth is stranger and harder to believe than the lies, somehow I don't think that'll end very well.

...Then again, they were my friends and I've known them for many years now. When the rest of the hospital was ready to condemn me a week ago, they were there to support me. Even when they were wary of what they thought I could do, they stood by me, defended me. Maybe, just maybe, the connection I had with these people was strong enough to survive yet another yet another revelation about me, the _real_ revelation, the truth of what I am.

"You're right Turk," I said slowly. "There _is_ something going on, but it's not the something you've been hearing about. It's bigger than that, and I'll tell you what that something is, but not right now."

He frowned and seemed to droop a bit. I knew though that there was no way I could tell him tonight and actually have him take me seriously. I would need proof to go with my claim, and I'd need some time to arrange for it.

"Tomorrow, I'll tell you then," I said, and he spirits brightened. "There's no way you're going to believe me without proof, so tomorrow I'll call you up in the morning and tell you where to meet me and when. I'll explain everything to you then. The truth, I swear."

He nodded with an expression on his face that told me he understood how serious I was being about this.

"Tomorrow," he said.

I nodded, then said, "And _please_ keep this between us! The fewer people that know, the better."

It wasn't that I didn't trust the rest of my friends with my secret, it was just that I didn't think I could stand rejection from more than one person at a time. If Turk, my closest friend, didn't trust me after this, then nobody would.

"Scouts honor," he said, holding up two fingers.

"You're not a scout," I said, but let it go. "I'll call you in the morning."

"You better," he said, pointing at me and giving me a look. Then, with a quick pat on the head for Danny, he left, this time out the front door.

Sighing, I slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table and rested my head into my hands. I had said that I'd tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Could he handle the truth though? Could any of them? Would he see me as a monster, a murderer, when I showed him my proof tomorrow and told him what I really was? Could someone who was living possibly accept me as I am and for what I do?

George once dated a schizophrenic who could see gravelings, and although he accepted her for her oddities, as soon as he realized what she was, he freaked out and fell backwards over a church balcony, killing himself and the bride and groom he landed on. God, could something as awful as that happen tomorrow when I tell him?

Everyone fears rejection, but the rejection I could face tomorrow is on a whole different level of its own; to not only be rejected, but to be feared, hated, condemned, and ostracized. For a moment, I wondered if maybe I could back out of it and just not call him tomorrow, but I knew he would never accept that.

...It would be nice to have someone among the living to be completely on my side.

I had to do it. I had to bite the bullet and face the music, but first, I had a few phone calls to make.

As if reading my thoughts, my cell phone rang and I raced back into my bedroom to catch it before it went to voicemail.

Seeing from the caller ID that it was Perry, I flipped open my cell phone and said, "Hey, what's up?"

"We have a problem," he said, getting straight to the point.

I groaned, "Oh great, what now?"

"Fortunately, I managed to get all of my reaps settled for tonight," he said. "_Unfortunately,_ Pee-Pants has been accused of and suspended for being a reaper."

"You mean Doug?" I asked distractedly as I ran a hand through my hair while trying to think of alternative ways for me to take care of my reaps in the hospital.

"Yes, I believe that's who I said," Perry said in his usual sarcastic tone.

Maybe I could cut a deal with the Janitor.

"What did you do? He was fine when I talked to him this morning," I said.

"_Hey,_" Perry barked. "It was his own nervousness that got him suspected, not anything I did, so I'd appreciate it if you dropped the third degree, Lenore."

"Right, sorry," I sighed. "Look, I've got some calls I have to make. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grunted dismissively and hung up without another word with made me think that we really needed to work on those goodbyes.

Flipping my own cell phone closed, I went to go grab my address book so that I could look up some local reapers in external influences.

* * *

_That's the end of chapter five, folks. I hope you're enjoying things so far. Review please!  
_


	7. Chapter 6

_Not much to say aside from the fact that I finally have free time and Im going to try to get some writing done. The downside to this free time is that I dont have any internet, so Ill only get about half an hours worth of time to post this at the library, so please excuse any grammatical errors. Also, the song 'Don't Fear The Reaper' is haunting me. Everywhere I go, it's playing! Just this morning, I walked into a store and it was playing over the intercom. _

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

JD's POV

I really need to just stop watching the news altogether. Anything they have to say is only going to cast a dark shadow over the rest of my day.

"_They're lying to you! None of it is true! I'm not sick!_"A man's voiced shouted from the TV.

If only it wasn't so important for me to keep up on current events. I would have happily turned of the television ages ago and pretend that none of this was happening. It's how I had dealt with so many horrific tragedies in the past. A lot has happened in the past hundred years and if I got emotionally involved each time something bad happened, I probably would have gone crazy a long time ago. Too bad this current disaster directly affects me.

"_You're making a mistake! You have no idea what's really going on here!_" the man continued to shout.

It was finally happening. The man on the television screen was a reaper who ended up on the Wanted List and was being arrested because he refused to register himself. He was the very first of what I'm sure will be many. The news camera followed him as he was being man-handled into a police car that would take him to who knows where. He kept shouting his protests, but it didn't appear as if anyone cared to hear what he had to say. They were only interested in seeing one of the 'dreaded reaper terrorists' finally being carted off.

"You'll only be hurting yourself in the end!"

What I couldn't quite understand was that if they really believed we were just sick people, why were they making this man do a perp walk like some sort of criminal? Maybe they wanted to make an example of him to show everyone that they were serious about the arrests and they meant business. Whatever the reason, I couldn't let this bit of bad news stop me from going through with my plans today. It was tempting, very tempting, but after contacting an acquaintance from external influences and agonizing all night long over whether I should or shouldn't, I had finally called up Turk with the time and place I wanted him to meet me and I couldn't back out now. I needed to do this. I needed to hope for the best, hope that our friendship was strong enough and tell him the truth.

With a quick goodbye to Danny, I grabbed my helmet and keys and headed out the door.

* * *

Perry's POV

I'd have to say that hospital reaps were my least favorite kind of reaps, right up there with children reaps as well as sobbing, crying, this-can't-be-happening-to-me reaps. My last reap was unfortunately a combination of both hospital _and_ sobbing, crying, this-can't-be-happening-to-me reaps. So not only did I have to deal with being surrounded by the morons and the people that I knew when I was alive, I also had to suffer in the company of a hysterical, naked man's soul, courtesy of the morgue. Thankfully, I did not have to suffer long. After telling the man to suck it up and that the situation wasn't anymore enjoyable for me, I pushed him down a flight of stairs into his bright light that just so conveniently appeared at the bottom.

...What? The light was there to catch his fall and he was being resistant about going. I was only doing my job.

Bunch of ungrateful bastards.

With that reap out of the way, I was free to take the rest of the day off and do whatever I wanted to do. So I hightailed it out of the hell that is Sacred Heart before someone spotted me. It was hard enough to sneak into the morgue without Pee-Pants there to act as a distraction, the last thing I needed was someone stopping me and asking what I was doing here.

"Chris!" an annoyingly familiar voice's shriek carried down the hall.

Keep walking. Don't look back. That nails-on-chalk-board call could be for anyone.

"Chris!" the call came more insistently.

There are plenty of Chris's in the hospital. Who's to say they're even talking to me?

"Chris Warrender!"

That's still not a sure sign she's talking to me. The hand on my shoulder, however, spoke otherwise.

Damn it all. I never get a break.

Heaving a sigh, I snapped my head in Barbie's direction with a firm glare on my face that traveled from her to her hand on my shoulder and then back again. Apparently getting the silent message, she removed her hand from my shoulder and took a step back.

"What part of 'me walking away and ignoring you' didn't you understand?" I asked, folding my arms across my well-toned chest.

Frowning at me, she said in that high-pitched, never-stopping-to-take-a-breath way of hers, "I just wanted to know how JD's doing what with you being his cousin and all and him liking you for reasons unknown to me and I keep trying to call him, but he'd not picking up, and I'm worried that with all these sicknesses going around that maybe he's getting worse, or he's caught the plague and he's passed out locked up in his house _suffocating_ to death, and , oh god, you haven't seen him recently, have you? Because-"

"For the love of god, Barbie, would you get a hold of yourself? He's a grown man and he can take care of himself!" I snapped.

Hold on one second, back up. What did I just say? Barbie. Did I seriously just call her _Barbie?_ No, I couldn't have. I'm better than that. I don't make those sort of mistakes.

"Did you just... call me Barbie?" she asked after a moment's pause.

Damn. I don't remember her being this observant when I was alive.

"Yeah, why not?" I said indifferently.

Play it cool. Nonchalant. Like you don't even know what she's talking about.

"I mean, come on. The blonde hair, high heels to go with that high squeaky voice," I said. "and your..."

Come on, Per. You can do it. Just choke it out. One compliment isn't going to kill you.

"Your..."

_Say it._ Oh, just say it! 'Your hourglass figure.' Hell, I'll settle for 'Your Barbie-like figure.' That's hardly even a compliment.

But you just know she's going to take it as a compliment.

She gave me an expectant look, one eyebrow raised, "My what?"

Nope. Can't do it.

"The point is," I continued. "You look very much like Barbie, and I'm surprised nobody's ever made the reference before."

"Someone has before," she said distantly, her eyes getting that 'I'm-off-in-a-flashback look.

While I was intrigued as to what memory she was drawing up about me, past-alive me, I took my chance to escape before she snapped out of it and started interrogating me again.

Damn hospital reaps.

* * *

JD's POV

I was nervous, extremely nervous, and I couldn't help but feel like this whole thing was going to be a mistake. Maybe I should have talked to Perry before deciding to do this and he would've told me how much of a moron I was being and I could have avoided this whole thing. But no, I had to be an adult about it and try to take care of it myself.

I had arrived at the meeting spot first. It was a fairly busy street with lots of cars driving by on the road and people bumping past each other on the sidewalk. There were a variety of different stores lining both sides of the street ranging from coffee shops to clothes stores to the occasional hardware store.

My eyes kept darting from my watch to my surroundings, keeping track of both the time and whether or not Turk arrived. With each minute that ticked by, I lost a little bit more of my nerve. Just when I was about to give up and leave, I saw Turk walking down the street toward me, and for some reason, I was surprised to see Carla right at his heels. Really, I should have been expecting something like this.

"I thought I said to keep this between us," I mumbled under my breath when he stopped before me.

"Dude, you know I can't keep anything from her," he said, just as quietly as me. "She _is_ a part of us."

"I can hear you both, you know," Carla said, stepping up next to Turk.

"Sorry Carla," I said with a sigh. "It's just, this is hard enough for me to try and explain it to Turk. Just promise me you'll both try to keep an open mind."

"Of course, Bambi," Carla said in a gentle, motherly way. "Why did you want us to meet you here?"

"Hear me out, okay?" I said, my hands raised in front of me almost defensively. "Let me explain everything first before you say anything."

They both nodded their heads that they understood.

"Now," I paused and glanced at all of the people walking by us who could overhear me. Gesturing for the two to follow, I lead them out of the crowd and over to the side of a building of one of the stores. Leaning close to them, I continued, "You both remember how quickly I healed that cut on my hand. That's not exactly normal, right, there's no looking past that. But I'm not sick, I swear. Aside from the plague, there is no sickness, especially not like what the media is describing. The truth, the _real_ honest-to-god truth is that grim reapers are real and someone found out about it and freaked out and started spreading all these rumors about us being sick and that we have to be taken care of."

"Bambi-"

"_Please_, Carla, just listen to me," I said. "It's the truth. This is what's really going on. There _are_ grim reapers. Real ones and many of them. Aside from me, you guys probably walk past one on the street on a weekly basis. It's our job to release the souls from the dead, and I can't stress that part enough. We don't kill people, they're already dead. We just take the souls out afterwards and send them on to the afterlife or whatever it is that comes next."

"Vanilla Bear, you swear you're not sick, but then you actually believe that all of this is true," Turk said almost helplessly. "What you're saying is-"

"Crazy," Carla finished for him.

"I know. It sounds like another one of my fantasies, but it's not," I said, feeling desperate. Hell, if I was them, I wouldn't believe me either. "I swear it's true, and... and I can prove it!"

"How?" Turk asked.

"Someone named J. R. Flanski is going to die here at around 1:45 pm," I explained. "I don't know _exactly_ how, just that it's going to be an accident, and I know this because another reaper, who will remain anonymous due to obvious reason, told me."

Understandably, they both just stared at me like I was insane. After all, what can you really say to a statement like that? Especially when it's coming from someone you know and (_hopefully still_) care about.

"Just keep an open mind," I said again, feeling exasperated. "It's almost 1:45 right now."

They exchanged a look, a silent conversation between them I'm sure, before deciding to humor me. It was clear that they didn't believe me and still thought I was sick, but hopefully that would change within the next few minutes. So we stood there, eyes on the street for the so-prophesized death, and even though it was for just a few minutes, it felt like so much longer to me.

What if the person didn't show up for their death. It would so figure that one of the rarest events in the reaping industry would happen to me at this very moment in time when I desperately needed a death to happen. Something _had_ to happen though. It was bound to. I could spot plenty of accidental hazards on the street. There was a questionably dangerous dog. People were walking out in front of traffic. People were biking in traffic. Lots of people were talking on their cellphones, not paying attention to their surroundings. There was a man on a ladder, working on a wobbly store sign that I was sure was very heavy and could easily kill someone if it fell.

Then suddenly, a child ran out into the street to grab something she dropped, I couldn't make out what, and her mother ran after her. My heart leaped in my throat, because of all the deaths that could have happened today, of _course_ it was going to be a mother or her child. I could hear Carla gasp beside me at the sight. There was no way both of them could survive the hit. A blue car was bearing down on them, and just as suddenly-

It stopped. About a foot away from them. Very nice brake work if you ask me.

As the blue car honked angrily and the mother pulled her kid out of the street, I couldn't help but say, "Huh, I really thought that was going to be it."

"Bambi, listen," Carla said after a relieved sigh.

"It's not 1:45 yet," I said, staring down at my watch. "We still have a minute."

She frown, but turned back to the street. One-forty-five came and went, and half-way into one-forty- seven both Carla and Turk were giving me looks out of the corner of their eyes. Looks that asked, 'Can we go yet?' or 'Well, where's the death?'

Just when I was beginning to think that this was the unluckiest day of my life, it happened, and true to the graveling's mischievous way, it happening in a ridiculous way that none of us could have predicted.

That questionably dangerous dog from before lunged at a man talking on his cellphone, not paying attention to his surroundings. In truth, the dog lunged at the graveling that was clinging to the man's pant leg, but I'm going to keep that part of the story to myself. It's hard enough getting my friends to believe me about the reaper thing, there's no way they'd buy into gravelings.

Anyway, the man, startled by the dog, bumped into a second man carrying hot coffee who proceeded to spill the hot coffee on himself and stumbled backwards right into the ladder that a third man was standing on, the one fixing the sign. Needless to say, that third man fell off the ladder directly onto the spikes of some steel fencing that a hardware store had put out on display, impaling himself.

As the people around us erupted into chaos at the sight of the man flopped over the fencing, spikes protruding from his back, the three of us just stood there and stared. Granted, I was expecting a death, but external influences was unpredictable and to this day still surprised me. Closing my gaping mouth, I looked over at my two friends, trying to judge their reaction aside from the obvious shock. Considering that a man just died, I had a feeling that gloating and saying 'I told you so' would be in poor taste, so I decided to just wait and let them speak first.

"He... he's dead?" Carla finally questioned.

"One of those spikes pierced his heart, another his spinal cord, he is definitely dead," Turk said.

"But it wasn't at one-forty-five," Carla said helplessly, not really knowing what else to say.

"It's really just an _estimated_ time of death," I said with a weak smile. There was another long moment of silence, and I wanted to give them as much time as they needed to process this, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to know. Did they believe me? Did they even still like me, or was I just a monster now that, in their eyes, could have prevented this? "Guys...? Please say something."

Silence and wide-eyed stares was all they could offer.

"Do... do you at least believe me?" I asked quietly.

"I... I..." Carla said, but just couldn't get the right words out.

"I need more time... to think about this," Turk finally said, only half looking at me. He shook his head. "I can't deal with this right now."

And then he walked away, not even looking back for a second. Carla looked from his retreating form to me and then down at the ground. She sighed, then looked back at me. Her hand reached up and she hesitated for only a second before resting it on my shoulder.

"Just give us some time alone to think about this, okay Bambi?" she said softly.

"Okay," I whispered.

She gave me a strained smile before leaving as well, but instead of following Turk, she raced across the street and pushed her way through the crowd to try and help however she could. I watched her until I couldn't see her through the mass of people anymore, and then I headed back to my scooter.

* * *

Third Person POV

Uncle Bernie, as he was known by the reapers in his division, periodically checked his watch as he traveled through the woods, pushing branches out of the way as he trudged through bushes and brush. Night had fallen hours ago and if subtlety wasn't so important, he would have brought a flashlight with him. All around him, he could faintly make out the crunching sound of others traveling the same way he was.

His watch beeped, warning him that he was running out of time, and he sped up. Others around him picked up the pace as well. Finally, he emerged from the trees and stepped into a grassy meadow that dipped down into a small valley. Dozens of people were already there. They stood waiting on the hilltops that overlooked the valley, quietly murmuring to each other as they stared down at what lay below them.

As Bernie squeezed his way through the crowd, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty over what he was doing. He knew that Barbara wouldn't approve, that it was the cowards way out, but as he looked at all of the people around him, all the reapers, he could tell that they were all scared too and that he was justified in his fears. Barbara and the rest of the gang would be fine without him, and if they were smart, they'd get the hell out of dodge like he was.

Making his way to the front of the crowd, he too stared down into the valley. Standing below them, where the land leveled out, was a grim reaper, and standing next to that reaper was a soul he just recently collected. The soul and the reaper were having some sort of conversation, those standing on the hill couldn't quite make out what they were saying, when finally the reaper looked at his watch and then nodded at the soul. The soul nodded back before turning away from all of the reapers and staring up at the sky.

Everything fell silent as the reapers watched the soul eagerly. Many were fidgeting or bouncing in place.

Suddenly, a bright iridescent light shot down from the sky. It looked like a giant crystal, its surface made of liquid. The second the soul stepped into the light, the reapers charged down the hill, running for the crystal as fast as they could. As Bernie raced towards the crystal, he took one last good look at the world around him, wishing for a moment that things were different and that he could take the time to enjoy life without fear.

His eyes returned to the crystal, lit with determination. He had made his choice and he was going to stick to it. With that said, he plunged into the light, all of the reapers behind him following him in a swarm until only the light was left hovering in the valley. The light pulsed once, sending off a shockwave of power in protest to what had just occurred, before it shot back off into the sky, disappearing with a flash.

* * *

JD's POV

I shivered, feeling a chill shoot down my spine.

"Weird," I murmured, looking over at Danny who was sitting on the couch next to me. "Did you feel that?"

Danny simply stared at me before looking back over at the TV, panting.

"Right, why am I asking you?" I said.

Unusual chills aside, my day has actually gotten worse and once again, the news is to blame. Stupid news. Why can't you show something positive for once?

_"If you're just joining us, our top story right now is on the footage that's been received all across the country. Many people, who before weren't sure just what it was they were witnessing, have video documentation of those who have the reaper sickness, adding further proof to the severity of the sickness. I must warn you, some of these videos are not suitable for all audiences."_

They've been showing it all night on all major news channels. Videos of us collecting souls or healing from injuries ridiculously fast. It was hard to believe that so many of us slipped up like this. A part of me thinks that some of these videos are doctored.

"Yup, there I am, getting a hole blown through my head, for the third time this night," I said dryly.

Danny barked.

"Should have known that bastard wouldn't keep that tape to himself," I muttered angrily. "Hey, look, there's Mason, not that that's too much of a surprise."

Can't wait to see how this helps my chances with the general public.

_

* * *

_

_End of chapter six. Due to limited internet time, I'm gonna keep this author's note quick. For those who have forgotten, Bernie is a part of JD's division, and if you didn't quite understand his little part in this chapter, he and other reapers are basically hitching a ride on the bright light to escape into the afterlife. A character on Dead Like Me did it once too. Also, from now on, this crossover of mine is going to be in the crossover section (still not quite sure how I feel about the whole crossover section). Really, I just wish they could have made it a story genre (like tragedy or humor) rather than separate it into a whole different section. But whatever, I'll deal._

_Review please!_


	8. Chapter 7

_Hey everyone. Wow, has it seriously been that long since an update. Woops. Sorry guys, my bad. Lucky for you guys I caught a cold and ended up skipping class because of it. With nothing else to do today, I decided to write. On another note: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Your kind words keep a girl going!_

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Perry's POV

.

My fingers tapped the steering wheel irritably as I headed over to Newbie's house. I got my usual call this morning about what reaps we had to take care of today, but on top of that, he told me he needed a ride to the hospital. Apparently both the tires on his wimpy little scooter were flat and he pointed out that since we both had to go to the hospital for reaps, it would only make sense to carpool. On top of that, he still wasn't talking to his friends, so asking them for a ride was out. Why he didn't just go out and buy a _real_ car with his leftover life insurance money from Dan was beyond me.

"Why can't you just call a cab?" I had asked him over the phone.

"I'd like to avoid the public as much as possible at this point," he had said. "I have a feeling that the cab driver of any cab I get in would try their hand at playing 'vigilante' and turn me into the police."

"Why the hell would they do that?"

"Haven't you been watching the news," he'd said, sounding surprised. "I've been exposed as a reaper. They have footage of me healing from a gunshot wound. They don't have my name yet, but people will recognize my face and it'll only be a matter of time before I end up on the wanted list. No way in hell I'm registering..."

He ended the call pretty quickly after that and before I knew it, I had hopped into my car and was on my way over to pick him up. I guess I decided to throw him a bone or something by giving him a ride over to the hospital. It was one thing to have your secret life expose to a bunch of moronic co-workers, to be exposed to the whole world though? Plus, he sounded kind of strange over the phone, stranger than usual; not that I'm concerned or anything. The kid can take care of himself.

As I turned onto his street and pulled up in front of his house, I swore. Spray painted in giant red letters on the front of Charlotte's house, his nice, _new_ house, was the word '_reaper._'

"I'm betting his scooter getting two flat tires has something to do with this too," I muttered to myself as I locked up my car and made my way up to the front door.

The mutt went off like an alarm when I tested the doorknob to find that it was locked. Pulling out a spare key that I'm almost one-hundred percent sure Newbie has no idea about, I unlocked the door and slipped inside. Or at least I tried. As soon as I put one foot inside the door, I was nearly pushed to the ground as Danny, the huge beast that he is, leapt up at me with a ferocious snarl that I may have feared back when I was alive and would need stitches for a bite like his. Now though, I was more annoyed than anything, and I wasn't even given a chance to react because as soon as the dog saw that it was me, he turned tail and ran for cover.

"Yeah, that's right," I snapped as I watched him hide under the kitchen table. "Try that again and I'll turn you into sausage."

"Are you picking on my dog, Perry?" Newbie asked, walking down the hallway to meet me.

"He started it," I said, defending myself.

"Be that as it may, you are older and smarter than him, and should therefore know better," Newbie pointed out. "Besides, I think Danny has the right to be a little on edge right now after having to deal with vandals attacking our house this morning. We're lucky they didn't break a window."

"Yeah, that was something you forgot to mention when you called me this morning," I said, crossing my arms irritably. Calling the police wasn't really the greatest idea now that the kid had been pushed into the reaper radar, but I would have gladly come over to kick some ass.

"What good would it have done?" Newbie said with a small shrug. "The spray paint was already there, and if you came over, you'd probably be accused of being a reaper too. When I decide to repaint my house, I'll give you a call."

"Newbie, if you just sit back and let them do this, it's only going to get worse," I said, and as if to further prove my point, the sound of many small somethings hitting the front of the house reached my ears. A quick glance at one of the living room windows showed me that it was raw eggs.

Danny, heartened by this latest attack on his territory, began barking like some sort of vicious monster. Ignoring Newbie's quiet protests to just leave it, I turned back to the front door while saying, "Let me show you how a real man deals with these assholes."

Determined, I grabbed the doorknob and swung open the front door, ready to give whoever was out there a piece of my mind. Danny was one step ahead of me though, several steps in fact and was already halfway across the lawn before I could even open my mouth to yell. Sometimes I forget that the so-called 'mutt' was actually a full-grown German shepherd, a breed commonly used as police dogs for a reason. Snarling like something out of hell, Danny made quick work of chasing the three teenaged boys out of the yard.

I waited until he was just within biting range of said teenagers before whistling sharply and shouting, "Danny, come!"

The over-grown fluff ball stopped in an instance and came bounding back across the yard to me, his tail wagging proudly the whole way. Those obedience classes really paid off. I couldn't even get interns to listen to me that quickly. Stepping aside to let Danny through, I closed the door behind us with a smirk.

"They'll think twice before they try that again," I said.

"They wouldn't need to think twice about trying to get Danny put down if he actually bit one of those boys," Newbie pointed out angrily. "Are you proud of yourself for putting my dog in danger?"

"Hey, I didn't plan for him to get by me," I said defensively.

"Yeah, but you opened the door after I specifically told you to leave it alone!" he snapped.

"Well he didn't bite anyone, so don't go getting your panties in a bunch, Clarissa, because everything's fine!" I snapped back.

"Maybe things seem fine to you, but did you ever consider the fact that Danny's a target now because he's my dog and they're trying to get to me?" Newbie said.

He brings up a good point, but I can't exactly undo opening the front door and I'm not about to admit out loud that I was wrong, so I stuck with stubbornness.

"I think Danny can take care of himself," I said. "Now grab your stuff and let's go before I change my mind about driving you anywhere."

"Fine," he growled.

And we were off.

.

* * *

.

3rd person POV

It had been over a day since that man died falling off of a ladder and Carla still couldn't completely wrap her mind around the whole grim reaper thing (of course, a day wasn't really a long time, but it sure felt like it had been a long time since she had last seen JD. Plenty of time to be stuck with her thoughts on this subject). It wasn't even the fact that JD was one of these grim reapers that she was having trouble processing, it was the whole grim reaper thing itself. Even after seeing proof that such a thing could exist, she still couldn't just accept that a supernatural creature like a grim reaper was real.

'_There I go, calling Bambi a 'creature.' This is just the sort of reaction he's probably worried about,_' she thought before shaking her head in frustration. She had to take care of the 'grim reaper's exist' problem first before she could deal with the side detail that JD was one of them.

If grim reapers were real, and if she could accept that they were real, then what over sort of supernatural _beings_ (not creatures) existed out there? Vampires and werewolves? How about angels and demons? She wasn't a religious person (and she could only imagine how Turk was taking this. They hadn't talked about it when they both ended up back home the previous night and when they went to work in the morning, they parted ways without a word as soon as they reached the hospital), but if grim reapers were real, then it would only be logical that spirits or ghosts were real, and of course those spirits would need a place to go, maybe not heaven or hell, but an afterlife of some sort.

Carla didn't know what to think and it was driving her crazy because she was usually the one with the answers, the one who had good advice to offer for any situation. Aside from Turk, it wasn't like she had anyone she could go to and talk about this. Anyone she talked to about grim reapers possibly being real would think that she had that reaper sickness; a sickness that she had doubts about from the very beginning and now doubted that it was real even more than she doubted grim reapers were real. Now she could understand how JD must have felt, being suspended from his job with everyone believing he had some sort of sickness that made him want to kill people (to put it bluntly).

Carla fiddled with the chart in her hands, staring down at the still form in the hospital bed before her. It was an elderly man who surprisingly enough did not die of the plague. Apparently he had been cleaning his gutters and had fallen off of the roof. He had died earlier that morning, a couple hours after her shift had started. Everyone who had tried to revive him had long since left the room, but Carla could not get herself to leave. She had wasted away the rest of her shift standing in this room, staring down the elderly man's body and wondering about grim reapers and spirits and if this man's grim reaper had come and collected his soul already or if he was still waiting in his body (and just how ridiculous did that last thought sound?)

"Oh, Carla, hi!" a familiar voice cheerfully greeted from behind her and Carla turned around to see Molly Clock of all people standing in the doorway.

"Molly," Carla said, a little surprised. "I didn't know you were back."

"Yeah, probably not for long though. I've been traveling around, helping out wherever I can. Every place I've been to has been short handed on help what with this whole grim reaper thing going on," Molly explained.

"Yeah, we keep losing staff members here," Carla said absentmindedly with a frown. It seemed that everything came back to grim reapers these days. She wondered if Molly had heard about JD yet.

"Did you know him?"

"What?" Carla asked, broken out of her thoughts.

"Did you know him?" Molly repeated, gesturing to the body on the bed. "I noticed you seemed kind of upset when you were staring at him earlier."

"No," Carla said. "I didn't know him. He just got me thinking about other things."

"Anything you want to talk about?" Molly asked, the psychiatrist in her taking over.

Carla stared at Molly for a long moment, trying to organize her thoughts and come up with something to say. Finally, she opened her mouth, deciding to go with 'No, I'm fine,' but instead of saying that, the entire story that she had been agonizing about all day spilled out of her mouth; everything about grim reapers and JD, about what JD had shown her just yesterday and how she just couldn't quite get herself to believe it. By the time her brain started working again and it occurred to her that it may not be the best idea to be telling someone about this, the damage had already been done.

'_I guess the gossiper in me couldn't resist,_' she thought wryly.

Molly stood there silently for a long moment, her eyes wide with surprise, before she seemed to regain her composure and gave Carla a small smile. She walked past Carla and came to stand before the bed of the elderly man. Staring down at the man, Molly asked, "When do you get off of work, Carla?"

"My shift actually ended about an hour ago," Carla said quietly.

Nodding to herself, Molly reached out a hand and patted the elderly man on the shoulder. Turning away from the body on the bed, Molly smiled and said, "Come on, let's go get some coffee or something and we can talk about this more."

Counting it as a positive that Molly didn't shoot her story down and call her crazy, Carla agreed and followed Molly out of the hospital room. As they headed to the hospital's front entrance, Molly called over her shoulder to the Todd as they passed him, "Hey, the Todd! Take care of Mr. Greg Manza in room 1104!"

Carla sighed as the Todd made some obscene response, glad to be clocking out for the day.

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* * *

.

JD's POV

"The next time we have to hide from someone in the morgue, _I_ get to hide in one of the morgue drawers and _you_ can hide under the sheet. Holding my breath for five minutes is not my idea of a good time," Perry said as we led our most recent reaps through the hospital's halls while trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. That whole 'notice-me-not' thing that comes with being a reaper isn't as reliable as it should be when people are nervous, suspicious, and pretty much keeping an eye out for any signs of abnormality (namely, us), so when one of the hospital's staff came into the morgue while Perry and I were searching through the bodies to find our reaps, we didn't want to take any chances and hid in the nearest, most convenient place possible: under a sheet for Perry and in an empty morgue drawer for me.

Maybe convenient isn't the right word.

"Fine by me," I said, holding back a shudder at the memory of being in that tiny, enclosed morgue drawer. It was far too reminiscent of those times I ended up in a coffin after one of Dan's shenanigans. I'd much rather hold my breath for five minutes than experience that again.

We had six reaps total today, which wasn't really a lot but still felt like more than usual. I couldn't be sure if it was because more people were dying of the plague or if we were just getting more reaps because other reapers were going out of commission. Neither explanation sounded appealing. There hadn't been anymore news coverage since yesterday morning of people being taken into custody for being a reaper, but police and other authorities work fast when properly motivated so there wasn't a doubt in my mind that more reapers had been arrested in the past twenty-four hours.

We had just reached the first floor of the hospital, the six naked souls of our reaps trailing behind us (The naked thing was really getting old. I wonder if the morgue would leave the bodies in their hospital gowns if I put in an anonymous request), when my cellphone rang. My heart dropped into my stomach because if it was Carla or Turk, that would mean that they had come to a decision on the whole reaper thing, a decision I may very well not like, and they wanted to talk to me about it. Hoping that it was either Elliot or someone calling the wrong number, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. To my shock, the caller ID read: Mom.

My eyes darting from my phone up to Perry, I said, "It's mom. Can you take care of my reaps for me?"

Well aware that I hadn't been able to get in touch with Barbara since the exposure of reapers on live TV, Perry nodded his consent and lead our reaps away while I answered my cellphone.

"Mom, what's going on?" I asked as I ducked into a supply closet for more privacy. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"Hey Joey," she said, sounding mentally exhausted. "Wish I could call to say I have good news, but, well..." she trailed off, before continuing with a sigh, "Sorry I couldn't contact you before. There was too much of a risk of my calls being traced. Brian discovered a bug at our meeting place shortly before that announcement by our _wonderful_ President and I knew I had to be careful about talking to you after that. Brian's been working overtime since then trying to set up some sort of signal that should block any tracers or bugs or something. I never really did understand any of that techno mumbo-jumbo that you kids are into. Anyway, he just barely set up a secure line for my cellphone before he disappeared."

"Wait, what?" I said, barely keeping up with everything she was saying. She and the rest of my group was being watched? By who? Was _I_ being watched? The thought was extremely unsettling. "Brian's gone?"

"I wouldn't say _gone_, but yeah, Brian's disappeared to somewhere. His place looked ransacked when I checked. Sure, the kid's a slob, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't smash up all his stuff like that. I haven't been able to get in touch with him since then."

Man, I didn't like the guy, he had always sounded like an irresponsible slacker and I was still bitter over the fact that he replaced Sam, but it wasn't like I wanted anything bad to happen to him.

"Who would be watching us?" I finally asked, my eyes darting around the supply closet as if expecting to spot a hidden camera to be pointed at me.

"I don't know, someone in the government I guess," Barbara said, almost dismissively. "This whole thing seems fishy to me. Even with the footage the government has gathered of us being reapers, doing things like healing or being present during someone's death, there's no way the living could have made the connection that they did, not on their own."

"What are you saying?" I asked quietly.

"I think a reaper is behind all of this," she said. "Pulling strings, putting thoughts into the living's heads. Hell, they probably even had a hand in the whole plague outbreak."

Suddenly I could hear distant shouting over the phone, followed by the sound of a door slamming.

"Listen, Joey," Barbara said, her breathing picking up. "I don't have a lot of time, so I'm going to give it to you in a nutshell. Along with Brian disappearing, Bernie's gone too. He left me a note saying that he was hitching the next bright light to the afterlife out of here. I'm not holding it against him though and you shouldn't either. With the way things are heating up, ditching this plane of existence seems like the ideal choice."

There was more shouting, closer now, before it was again cut off by the sound of a door slamming.

"What's going on?" I asked fearfully.

"They're rounding us up, kid," she said in a resigned tone. "They're finding out who the leaders of each ground in each division are and taking us away; cutting the head off of the snake, I guess you could say." sounding more determined, she said, "They're not getting me though. I'm finishing my quota today, Joey, and being promoted. My next reap will be my last. That means that you hold seniority over everyone else in our group. I hate to push this on you all at once, but I need you to step up and take the reins."

"Wait, what?" I squawked. "I don't the first thing about being head reaper."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Barbara said. "You have a hundred years more experience than the rest of the reapers in this group, you'll do fine. I wish I could say that I have a lot of money to leave behind for you, but unfortunately the government froze pretty much all of my accounts. I was only able to take out enough for Holden to buy two plane tickets for him and my replacement to head out your way. Nevada was the closest we could get on such short notice, so I'm going to need you to drive out there to meet them halfway."

Grabbing a pen from one of the shelves in the supply closet, I was quick to write down the information Barbara gave me on the airport and what plane it was that Holden and her replacement would be coming in on. It was all happening so fast and there was so much information to take in all at once, Barbara's promotion, Uncle Bernie leaving, Brian disappearing, the government's strike against reapers, me suddenly being the leader of my group, I could hardly process it all.

Over the phone, I could hear another door slamming, followed by a pounding sound and faint shouting. I had a feeling that Barbara was running out of time and that this phone call was soon going to end, as much as I didn't want it to. I knew that this phone call would be the last time I would talk to Barbara before I myself was promoted and moved on to the afterlife, and I felt like something more needed to be said between us, some sort of profound advice she could give me that would help me be a good leader for my group.

No such words were exchanged though, and the last thing Barbara said to me before she hung up the phone was, "Well, kid, it's been fun. I'll see you in the afterlife."

.

* * *

.

Barbara hung up her cellphone with a regretful sigh. She wished she had more time to talk to Joseph and give him a little bit of coaching on what it means to be head reaper, but there just wasn't enough time. Your stereotypical government agents in pressed suits had been pursuing her since she left that morning to take care of her very last reap and had been practically chasing her through the hospital's halls as she tried to locate her reap's room while at the same time explaining the situation to Joseph. Thankfully, she was always able to remain one step ahead of them and was finally able to locate her reap's room and lock herself inside.

Dropping her cellphone on the ground, Barbara smashed it to pieces with her heal. She didn't want anyone using it to try and trace the location of the remaining members of her group. Quickly approaching the hospital bed, Barbara stared down at the young woman breathing through a tube on the bed before her. The post-it read D. L. Park. The hospital's chart read Drew Linda Park, age twenty-three.

As the heart monitors in the room began to shriek, Barbara ran her hand down her replacement's arm, releasing the soul from the body for the last time.

"You're going to be the only girl in a reaping group of guys," Barbara said with an amused smile. "I wish you the best of luck."

The door slammed open behind her and as footsteps flooded into the room, Barbara turned to face her pursuers.

"Better luck next time, boys," she said with a smirk before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

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* * *

_That's it for this chapter! The OCs in JD's group (Brian, Holden and Drew) won't be showing up for at least a couple chapters if not more (Brian especially), so feel free to give me any suggestions as to what sort of traits or personalities you'd like to see in these characters so that I have a better idea as to what will be cool with you guys. Never fear! This story will always be focused on JD and Perry's personal reaper experience throughout this whole fiasco, but they can't do it all alone and the three OCs, as well as any other OC, have their parts to play in this story._

_Also, to try and uncomplicate things for you guys, I will list below the other OCs in this story that will at some point play a part:_

_Cade Davies: The Australian graveling (courtesy of Perry), that is currently leading a graveling rebellion against the grim reapers and fucking things up at the White House._

_Steve Harris: The comatose man whose body Cade is possessing. (I didn't intentionally mean to have two characters named Steve in this story. That was an accident on my part, so to simplify things and make up for that mistake, Steve Harris will for the most part be known as Cade, since it is Cade inhabiting the body.)_

_Steve McDouglas: (the other Steve. *sighs* Anyway...) A plague division reaper. Kind of JD's rival/enemy. McDouglas is a lab assistant who at one point worked with the plague virus and subsequently saved aside a mutated strain of the plague virus that was even more destructive than the original._

_Carl: The head reaper of Steve McDouglas' group; Plague division. (doesn't look like I came up with a last name for Carl. I guess I'll come up with one later if a last name is even necessary at all)_

_As for Jack Castello, the evil lawyer, he's all done in this story/series, as far as I can tell, and wont be making another appearance._

_That's all for now! Review please!_


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